Link Faron: Gryffindor
by notproperlykoalified
Summary: "While Minerva wasn't usually one to count her chickens before they hatch, she would have bet several galleons that this boy was a Gryffindor." Link, reincarnated Hero of Hyrule, goes to Hogwarts. Story includes fraternizing with the giant squid, bartering for the Marauder's Map, and encounters with an ancient Basilisk. Weekly updates!
1. Part 1 - Before Hogwarts

**Link Faron, Gryffindor**

 **Part 1**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Legend of Zelda or Harry Potter.**

* * *

 _ **Before Hogwarts**_

When most people pray, they do not expect an answer, not truly. The hope of it lingers, though – the fleeting memory of a warm caress, a moment of clarity shining through green glass.

Link, though, when he goes to pray to the Goddess Hylia with his grandmother, is always smiled upon. _Thank you_ and _perhaps one day_ and _I'm so sorry_ she seems to say

…

Link plays with the spirits of the forest in an endless game of hide and seek. The spirits laugh when the boy finds them, bright and buoyant. One offers to teach him how to play the fiddle.

Link accepts with a crinkle of his eyes, hoping that music can express what he cannot say in words.

Once, Link falls from a tree when gallivanting with his friends in the foliage, hurting his leg. They fret and flutter and ply him with healing potions, and his fiddle teacher, Makar, returns the next day with a magical leaf – so you can fly like us!

And Link does fly, and he wonders if, perhaps, this is where he belongs, buoyed along by the wind, the world arrayed like a tapestry before him.

…

During her time as Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall had delivered the news that, yes, your child does possess magical powers and, yes, there is a school where they can learn how to _not_ accidentally turn every vegetable in the house into a chocolate replica. (What she doesn't say is that by the time their kid is done at Hogwarts turning brussel sprouts into Godiva truffles will be something their mage in the making will be able to do in their sleep, but sometime discretion is the better part of valor, and Minerva McGonagall is an expert on valor).

Most of these visits see Minerva navigating through carefully sectioned suburban squares, avoiding the elevators in apartment complexes, and sometimes visiting a farm house in the fields. Lurelin Village was different, though.

Minerva double-checked the address.

 _Mr. L Faron_

 _The Hut Beside the Statue of the Goddess, with the nice plot of Begonias_

 _On the Left as You Enter_

 _Lurelin Village_

It really was a rather nice plot of begonias, Minerva reflected, though the sheets of rain made her feel rather less inclined to admire their beauty than to step up and knock on the door, already.

So she knocked and a boy opened the door, with chestnut skin and sharp blue eyes. And, while Minerva wasn't usually one to count her chickens before they hatch, she would have bet _gold_ on this boy being a Gryffindor.

(And, once she had Link and his Grandmother settled over a cup of tea and Minerva said "You, Mr. Faron, are a Wizard," she did not find her audience shocked or scared, but resigned (on the Grandmother's part) and vindicated (on Link's part.))

…

Link never purchased a wand from Olivander's. Instead, he got lost in the woods (and really, what else was he supposed to do there, they were the _Lost_ Woods, and being lost for a little while doesn't mean you won't eventually find your way) and found a clearing with a sword, impaled in stone shaped like the triforce.

The Lost Woods were quite ornery, and Link knew that if they (whoever the _they_ that dictated the course of the Lost Woods were) didn't want him to find this incredibly tempting, shiny, like-an-old-friend sword and pull it out of its pedestal then he never would have found it in the first place. So, with a shrug and a gulp of water from his canteen, Link attempted to pull out the sword, and it certainly wasn't like pulling a hot knife through butter – no, it was more like trying pull a stick out of the mud while a mummy _hugged the life force out of you._

(Link had a vivid array of nightmares, of which the hugging mummy was just one. In one, a flame haired man turns around, bearing the face of a big lipped fish, shouts " 'Hoy, Small Fry!" and proceeds to shoot _him_ with arrows, while a kraken with a hundred eyes nods encouragingly, explaining that it is _just_ the thing to sort out spine problems, which Link, of course, finds ridiculous as squids, even giant hundred-eyed squids, don't _have_ spines.)

In any case, Link tries to pull the sword that calls to him like an old friend from its pedestal, but faints before he can free it entirely, and wakes up at the entrance to the Lost Woods, sore and disappointed.

Then he tries again. And again. Then goes home for supper and sleep, because it wouldn't do to upset his grandmother, and her soup always makes him feel better.

And really, Link wonders if it's Grandma's soup that does the trick, because the next morning, when he attempts to free the sword once again he _almost_ faints, but not quite, and once the sword is risen above his head he is suffused with warmth and light and he can sense the smile of the Goddess.

…

When Link wakes up after learning of his status as a wizard and new entrant to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he finds that a wand had replaced his sword. It was silver and shining, with sea green interlaced at the – hilt, he supposed.

Well, that solved the wand issue.

…

Link explored every inch of Diagon Alley, leading his Grandmother along by the arm, questioning wizards and witches and there was a _hag_ , leaving no cobblestone unturned, no cauldron bottom unchecked.

He tried to explore Knockturn Alley, but a couple of wizards leered at him and Link elected to return once he had a better handle on this _wizard_ lark.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I made a couple minor edits to this chapter (retconned a couple details that didn't work later). If you're new, welcome! Thank you for giving this a try! If you're less fond of the "drabble" writing, stick around until about chapter 6, the writing style shifts to include more conversations and such.**


	2. Part 2 - September 1st

**Link Faron, Gryffindor**

 **Part 2**

 **Discliamer: All characters and settings are not mine.**

 _ **September 1st**_

Link often gets a sense of _how_ to do something. For instance, before ever being told how, Link understood how to bait a hook and reel in his catch. Granted, he wasn't particularly _good_ at fishing, but he understood the theory. He took to the forest as if he had been raised there, and he never hesitated when wielding his sword, even if it took some time for his muscles to catch up with his instincts.

But the train, that came as a surprise. Because Link's first thought when he initially saw the Hogwart's Express was not _wow, this amazing, I'm one step closer to being a wizard_ or even _so, are we even at King's Cross anymore, or what?_

No, his first thought was _I bet I'd make a great train conductor. I wonder if I could sneak up to the front?_

…

Link snuck up to the front. The conductor was a nice, older man, though he smelled a bit odd. He showed Link the ropes, and by the time Link pulled the Hogwarts Express to a halt at Hogsmeade station the pair were fast friends.

"Now, there, write if you need anything, m'boy," the conductor smiled. "We train aficionados have to stick together, after all!"

"Good luck at Hogwarts, dearie," the sweets cart lady added. She had ployed him with some Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, calling eating a box of them a rite of initiation amongst young witches and wizards.

Link tried one, and when it tasted just like what he knew to be a cobbled together mess of monster parts, including the wing of a Keese and Green Chu jelly, he swallowed it, but with a pained expression. (A latent instinct insisted that every piece of food, no matter how vile, could make the difference between life and death).

"Thank you both so much!" Link waved goodbye to both cart lady and conductor, far gladder of one experience than the other.

…

Link was giddy with excitement – the bearded-man, Hagrid, was calling all of the first years over to ride on boats across the lake. There was little Link enjoyed more than a ride on a boat – or a ship, or a piece of driftwood with a tiller attached, he wasn't picky. It was another of the things he "knew" how to do.

Lurelin village depended on the skill of the fisherpeople for food and goods for trade. Link had been setting out on a skiff, towing the depths with nets and catching fish in scores since he was very small, even before ever finding the Lost Woods.

There was something special, Link found, about rolling over the water – perhaps it was the ripple of the waves, the beady stars in the sky, or the unreachable horizon line. Whatever it was, Link soaked in the feel of it on a magic boat in magic lake in an unplottable portion of Scotland, and smiled at the glittering castle, nestled in nostalgia.

…

"Faron, Link."

How many people have worn this hat, Link wondered. That seems like a good way to initiate a yearly head louse pandemic. Or, perhaps there was a spell for that? Likely the hat had several enchantments placed on it – something for mindreading, something for sentience, a bit of song writing, and an anti-head lice ward.

Link sat on the stool, and Professor McGonagall moved to put the sentient hat on his head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted, before the brim hardly brushed his hair.

Well, that wasn't all that hard, Link reflected as he flashed a cheeky grin to a resigned-looking Professor McGonagall while the Gryffindor table applauded him.

I would have looked good in green, though, Link frowned into his reflection on the golden plate. Or perhaps a nice light blue. Red and gold is a bit ostentatious.

…

Link gathered a few vital pieces of information from Professor Dumbledore's introductory speech.

The first was that there was a man, Filch, who supervised the students and confiscated their items if they caused a ruckus. Link decided to either make an ally of the man or avoid him like the plague.

The second was the existence of an _entire_ Forbidden Forest on the castle grounds. Link took the "forbidden" portion of the title to be merely advisory, and vowed to himself to explore the area as soon as he gathered sufficient supplies for an excursion into hazardous territory.

The third piece of information was that Professor Dumbledore quite liked lemon drops, and, in fact, was quite fond of candy of both Muggle and Wizarding origin. Link tucked this particular tidbit into the back of his mind, as sometimes it was the smallest snippets of information that proved the most useful when immersed in puzzling times.

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! The next snippet of this story will be posted by June 24 at the latest.**


	3. Part 3 - Early Days

**Link Faron, Gryffindor**

 **Part 3**

 **Disclaimer: No familiar properties belong to me.**

 _ **Early Days**_

Most Hogwarts students struggled to find their way around the castle for their first several days, relying on the directions of friendly ghosts and older students in order to successfully navigate through the castle. This was understandable, as, for the average student, the constant movement of any real landmarks - suits of armor, portraits, and even the staircases - was thoroughly bewildering.

Link, though, had a set of skills that lent itself very nicely to dungeon and castle traversing. He didn't _know_ how he _knew_ how to best systematically comb through an area for concealed puzzles and treasures, but Link didn't worry about the phenomena overmuch. He figured it was one of those mysteries that would unfurl in its own time.

Content though he was to leave the mystery of his mysterious knowledge alone, Link was not willing to leave Hogwarts, in all of her magical, sprawling, glory unexplored for long. On September 2nd, as soon as his last class of the day was concluded, Link galloped down the first empty corridor he could find, looking for adventure.

To his delight, he found a patch of stones that were of a slightly darker shade than the surrounding wall. This, Link knew, meant that it was quite likely that the wall concealed a secret or a treasure. Excited, Link questioned a nearby suit of armor about the wall and, with some cajoling, the armor gruffly shared that the wall hid a secret passage to the dungeons, but would only open when serenaded.

Link skipped back over the wall, got down on his knees, and sang his best rendition of "The Coasts of High Barbary," a sea shanty he had learned from Old Man Orca on the the seas near Lurelin. Thankfully, Link's best was quite good, as one of the things he _knew_ was how to sing tunefully. The stones blushed pink and cascaded to the side, revealing the secret passageway.

Link spun around and thrust his fist into the air triumphantly while the suit of armor judged him silently.

"Thank you!" Link shouted gleefully to both armor and wall, trotting into the secret passageway. It was a surprisingly clean passageway - there were no cobwebs or mice droppings to be seen. The passageway descended, for the most part, sometimes jutting to one side or the other, or including a ladder. At one point the passageway sloped so much as to become a stone slide. Link grabbed a discarded slat of wood and surfed down the slide, whooping all the way.

The slide leveled out, revealing to Link the ultimate temptation.

An old, earthenware pot.

Link alighted from his wooden vehicle, and rushed toward the pot. He hesitated for only the briefest of moments, but hardened instincts spurred him onward, sharp eyes focussed on the clay receptacle to the exclusion of all else.

In a single, practiced motion Link lifted the pot and threw it against the wall, where it shattered and fell to dust, leaving a single arrow to fall on the ground.

 _Worth it_ , Link thought to himself as he spun around and displayed the arrow to the world.

(Needless to say, after such an exciting initial outing, Link took to exploring Hogwarts like a duck takes to water.)

...

Link, like most muggleborns, thought the wizarding monetary system was complete nonsense, though, beyond the obvious, he couldn't articulate _why_.

Part of the reason, was, of course, the completely insane coin values. Does anybody ever even _have_ 29 knuts to exchange for a sickle?

"I think it's the roundness that bothers me," he confided in Hannah Abbott. Hufflepuffs, he has found, are good people to confide in. "Wouldn't it make more sense to use, I don't know, brightly colored jewels instead?"

Hannah quirked a quizzical eyebrow.

Link hastened to explain. "Like, a green jewels is worth one, blue five, red 20, purple, 50, silver 100, and gold 300!"

Hannah bit her lip. It seemed to be a common habit amongst many Hufflepuffs. "Well, the numbers are good – but where would you get that many jewels?"

 _In pots, and treasure chests, and monster dust_ , Link doesn't say, because that is the sort of thing you _don't_ say, he has learned.

…

Link didn't sit at the Gryffindor table when he could help it. Not because he didn't like the Gryffindors plenty, but because it was much more interesting to _wander_.

He was shameless – eavesdropping with careless abandon, inserting himself into conversations that he had no right to be a part of (but how else was he supposed to learn about the secret broom cupboard by the Slytherin Common Room, where, if you were discreet, you could trade for contraband potions ingredients?).

And, though Percy Weasley looked downright _scandalized_ and would take Link aside for conversations about how, no, that's simply not how it's _done_ , Link would stride right up to the Staff Table, grab some toast, and ask Professor Dumbledore for some marmalade, and, oh, is there anything interesting that an adventurous young Gryffindor could explore this fine morning.

Dumbledore's eyes would twinkle, and share an anecdote about hot chocolate and a room full of chamber pots and how, it was fuzzy, but he was quite certain he'd been on the seventh floor at the time… and Link was off, nicking some bacon from Professor Snape's chosen platter with a smirk.

And sometimes, just because Link liked watching people _sputter_ , he would walk upon the tables, pirouetting amidst the pudding and cabbage.

…

Link, like the majority of the Hogwarts population, abhorred his hat, black, conical monstrosity that it was. Unlike the rest of the Hogwarts population, Link did not shut his hat up in his trunk to wear only at Feasts.

No, Link knew his hat was redeemable. It took several trips the library and a consultation session with Hermione Granger (the girl's knowledge of charms was practically encyclopedic) before Link's hat was perfect – forest green and drooping like a windsock.

(There was a bit of a hairy moment where the hat grew a beak and eyes and began _talking_ to him, but with a hastily cast _finite_ the hat became a normal piece of cloth once more.)

* * *

 **AN: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Question - do you think the Wizarding or Hylian monetary system is superior? Or are they both complete nonsense and only work in worlds where you carry around bags that are bigger on the inside?**


	4. Part 4 - Classes

**Link Faron, Gryffindor**

 **Part 4**

 **Disclaimer: No familiar properties are mine. I play somewhat fast and loose with chronology.**

 _ **Classes - Year 1**_

"So, what's your favorite class, Link?" Angelina Johnson asked. Link quite liked Angelina Johnson. She said what she meant, and didn't dance around the point.

"Potions, I think," Link responded.

"You do realize that Snape has an actual _vendetta_ against you, right?" Angelina looked incredulous.

" _Vendetta_ is a bit of strong word, there," Link smiled. "He doesn't really hate me, I think. He's just a complicated person."

"He docked you twenty points on Sunday for asking him to pass you the pudding."

"To be fair, I've been told I'm impish and incorrigible, which likely rubs him the wrong way," Link shrugged.

Angelina couldn't help but laugh at that. "You're damn right you are. But seriously, _why_ do you like potions so much?"

"Well," rubbed the back of his head, a bit sheepish. "There's this little jig I hum whenever I brew a potion. It makes me happy."

Angelina blinked. "Oh. Could you maybe teach it to me?"

"Of course!"

...

While Link didn't think Gilderoy Lockhart was a particularly good teacher, he couldn't help but enjoy Defense Against the Dark Arts just a little bit – the man was absolutely _hilarious_.

…

The first time Link saw a Venemous Tentacula, he grabbed the nearest pair of garden shears and hacked it to pieces, much to Professor Sprout's dismay.

His Herbology career only went downhill from there.

…

Astronomy was fun enough, but Link wished they could leave the tower and navigate the wilds by only their wits and twinkle of the stars.

…

Transfiguration was uncharted territory, and, under the careful guidance of Professor McGonagall, Link thrived.

McGonagall, privately, thought that Link had the fundamental understanding that every Transfiguration master works to internalize – that the form of the object may change, but the spirit stays the same.

…

"Mr. Faron, when I want an explosion, I will ask for one," Flitwick reprimanded squeakily, looking dismayed by the charred remains of Link's feather.

"Sorry Professor Flitwick," Link said.

"Honestly, you're almost as bad as Mr. Finnegan…"

* * *

 **AN: Thank you for reading and reviewing! This is a little chapter - a much longer one will be coming by June 24th.**


	5. Part 5 - People

_**People, Year 1**_

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned belong to me.**

 **AN: I play somewhat fast and loose with chronology. Sorry about that.**

* * *

 **Filch, Year 1:**

"Hello, Mr. Filch," Link said, waltzing up to the man. It was only his second day at Hogwarts, but Link thought it was best to start ingratiating himself with the man early. "How are you this morning?"

Filch ignored him. He was of the general opinion that all children were pests, and that magical children were particularly annoying pests with no regard for honest work. As such, Filch's policy was to either ignore or squash the blighters – if only he had the whips available.

"Do you have any grievances to air?" Link continued. "Or any work you would like to foist off on a young wizard?"

"No," Filch spat.

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No," Filch snarled. "Now leave before I string you up by your ankles."

Link considered this. "Right." He left. This particular endeavor would require a more delicate strategy.

* * *

 **Nearly-Headless Nick, Year 1** :

What sorts of rights do ghosts have? What is ghost culture like?

"Good morning, Nick!" Link called out to the ghost.

"And a good morning to you, young Gryffindor," Nearly-Headless Nick replied warmly.

"Say, Nick, what's it like being a ghost?" Link asked. He was quite certain that he didn't know what it was like to be a ghost, but he thought he might have heard some second-hand accounts of the experience.

Nearly-Headless Nick fingered his ruff somewhat nervously. "Why do you ask?" Nick stalled for time.

"I'm just curious, I suppose," Link smiled. "Oh! I'm not asking about the whole _dying_ bit, I've been informed, I think, that it's not polite to ask people about that sort of thing. No, I was wondering what it was like to, you know, _be_ a ghost."

Nearly-Headless Nick looked distinctly relieved. "Ah, yes. Well, it is quite nice being able to float and go through walls," Nick allowed. "Though being unable to eat is rather frustrating, particularly since the quality in food has dramatically increased since the fifteenth century."

"It really has," Link emphatically agreed. There was really only so much steamed deer one could eat before the appeal wore thin, Link knew.

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington blinked once, then twice. "I beg your pardon?"

"Hm?" Link frowned. "Well, anyway. What is ghost culture like? There are lots of ghosts at Hogwarts – are there any elsewhere?"

"Why of course!" Nearly-Headless Nick replied. "Though Hogwarts has the largest gathering of spirits in the British Isles, there are, of course, other communities, or individuals haunting graveyards and the like."

"Cool," said Link. "So, all ghosts were once wizards or witches?"

"Correct," Nick said. "Muggles can neither become ghosts nor see ghosts."

"Hmm," Link pondered that. "So, in ghost society, what is valued? Is there currency?"

"Of course not!" Nick laughed. "What would we buy? No, no. In the spirit community what we put the most value in is tradition and entertainment. There is a danger in this existence becoming quite dull, you know."

"I could well imagine," Link nodded. "Is there any therapy for ghosts?"

Nick pondered this. "Of a sort. After about a century or so the spirit council will step in if a new ghost hasn't either acclimated or moved on. We've been developing pamphlets," he added as an aside. "And in most centers of magical government there is a spirit division that will step in if a ghost is causing too much mayhem."

"Oh," Link frowned. "Then, if you're subject to the laws of the wizarding government, do you have representation there?"

"No," Nick shook his head. "Or at least, none that matters."

"That's not right," Link's eyes narrowed. "Ghosts have a fully operational community and are clearly sentient. You deserve to have you interests represented!"

Sir Nick looked oddly gratified. "I quite agree."

* * *

 **Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, Year 1** :

Link slid down the Gryffindor bench, inserting himself into Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan's circle of conversation.

"Hello, Link," Dean said tolerantly. The Gryffindors, by October, had found themselves mostly immune to Link's seeming inability to respect social protocol, and chose to roll with it.

"Word is that you like football, Dean," Link peered at the older boy.

"He sure does!" Seamus laughed. "He has this poster of the West Hams by his bed and everything!"

Dean rolled his eyes at his friend's behavior. Link looked thoughtful.

"Do you want to start a Hogwart's Football Team?" Link asked.

"What?" Dean exclaimed. "But, that's a muggle sport, and this is…"

"Nonsense," Link said. "Just because you _can_ play magical sports doesn't mean you can _only_ play magical sports."

"Well, I suppose that's true…"

"Of course it is!" Link carried on, as if the matter were settled. "Besides, football is practically universal. Witches and wizards will like it plenty."

"What do you think, Seamus?" Dean asked.

"It would probably work…" Seamus allowed.

"Great, let's go ask Professor McGonagall's permission," Link jumped up, and started towards the head table.

"Wait, now?!" Dean sputtered.

"Of course now!" Link exclaimed. "I want to try swimming with the Giant Squid before the weather gets too cold." And with that he grabbed the duo by the elbows and cheerily led them up to where Professor McGonagall was eating her poached eggs and toast.

Professor Snape, obviously noticing Link, glared then pointedly read his edition of the Daily Prophet.

"Hello Professor McGonagall!" Link greeted, swiping some toast from the platter at the center of the table.

"Good Morning, Mr. Faron," Professor McGonagoll replied. "For what purpose have you disturbed my morning victuals today?" she asked with exaggerated tiredness.

Link smiled. He knew she enjoyed their chats. "Dean and Seamus and I have an idea," Link announced. He then prodded Dean with his elbow.

"Hey!" Dean scowled, until he wised up and turned to Professor McGonagall. "Right. Well, Professor, we were hoping we could maybe start a football team."

"Oh?" Professor McGonagall quirked an eyebrow.

"Football," Dean repeated. "It's a muggle sport, you see, where you…"

"No need to explain the particulars, Mr. Finnegan," Professor McGonagall cut him off. "I am quite aware of what football is."

"Cool," inserted Seamus. "So, do you think we could start a club?"

McGonagall considered the request. "Why do you want to start a football club?" she asked.

Link brightened, glad that McGonagall was willing to listen. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a large piece of parchment. He unfurled the parchment to show the heading "BENEFITS OF THE NEW HOGWARTS FOOTBALL TEAM."

"I thought you'd never ask," he put the corners of the parchment in Dean and Seamus's hands. Bemusedly, they held up the parchment. "The benefits of a Hogwarts Football team are bountiful."

"First, it will provide an avenue for regular exercise besides traversing the Hogwarts stairs," he pointed at the parchment, where the corresponding statement was written in broad letter. "The Hogwart's Hags – that is my proposed name for the team – will encourage inter-house cooperation as students from all different houses compete under the Hogwarts banner. Needless to see, football is also a very fun game, and the opportunity for play without the outcome of the game effecting the House Cup will keep the atmosphere relaxed."

"Lastly," linked concluded with a flourish. "Introducing a muggle game such as football to Hogwarts will help alleviate some of the class and social tensions between individuals of different birth status. The effervescent popularity of the game will, in time, likely be enough to overcome the prejudices of those who look upon Muggles and anything of Muggle-origin as being lesser than the magical equivalent. It will, eventually, be easier to enjoy football than to dislike it, and there is a chance curious wizards and witches will seek out this aspect of Muggle culture and enjoy it themselves."

Though there was still chatter coming from the students, the staff table was silent.

"And, that is our proposition," Link grinned. "In short, Hogwarts Football is going to save the magical world. Any questions?"

"A comment," Dean said. "We're not going to be called the Hogwarts Hags. Let's be Hogwarts United instead."

Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies teacher, rose from her chair and began clapping. Professor Sprout looked giddy, and Professor Snape pointedly continued to look at his paper, though he hadn't changed pages since Link and his motley crew of the morning had walked up to the table.

Professor McGonagall, her eggs and toast quite forgotten, looked proud as a mother lioness. "You shall have your team, Mr. Faron, Mr. Thomas, Mr. Finnegan. And the best of luck to you."

* * *

 **Cho Chang** :

"Hey Cho, why are there so many triangles in your Arithmancy homework?" Link asked, slurping his pumpkin juice. (One surprise Link had upon entering the Wizarding World was that he was already quite familiar with the taste pumpkin juice, and he privately entertained the thought that the Hogwarts draughts were just a bit too heavy.)

He enjoyed eating lunch at the Ravenclaw table because that was when it was most likely for them to be working on some last-minute homework. When pestered, the Ravenclaws would either tell him off, which was fun, or share what they were learning about, which was usually interesting.

"Well, we're studying triangular theory at the moment," Cho explained, filling in her last answer.

"Triangular theory?" Link questioned. He knew, on whatever level it was that he knew many things, that triangles were important, somehow. There was some debate in the village – mostly between his Grandmother and Old Man Sturgeon – about the three triangle symbol they maintained was merely a crest or a sacred symbol.

"Right," Cho said. "So, triangular theory is the principle that, with the proper triangulations, you can forge a connection between most objects."

"How are those connections made?" Link asked.

"Well, first they can be made on the theoretical level," Cho explained. "That's what I'm doing here. Because of the shape of a triangle, with only a little bit of information on it you can find its exact dimensions, which makes a theoretical connection."

"So, like geometry?" Link asked, recalling his primary school math class.

"Maybe," Cho shrugged. "I wouldn't know. Anyway, these theoretical connections can then be used as the basis of spell crafting."

"Really?" Link's eyes grew large.

"From what I understand, yes," Cho said.

"How long until I can take Arithmancy?" Link asked.

"You've got a couple years to go, still," Cho grinned.

"Drat."

* * *

 **Neville Longbottom, Year 1** :

"Well, if it's Herbology you're having trouble with, I'd talk to Neville," Alicia advised. She peered around the common room. "Ah! There he is, by the portrait of Lady Matilda."

Link spotted him. He was a round-faced boy, and he was intently focused on his parchment. "Thanks, Alicia!"

"No problem," she replied, but Link didn't hear her, as he was already focused on the next part of his mission. It was becoming very clear to Link that he was not going to pass Herbology without an intervention.

The Venomous Tentacula slaying on the first day was only the beginning. Link's instinctive impulse when faced with any sort of plant was to hack it pieces before he was eaten or poisoned. This, he quickly learned was _not_ the proper response in the Herbology Greenhouse. He had already lost 30 points for Gryffindor and had been informed by Professor Sprout in no uncertain terms that if he didn't pull himself together there was very little chance of him passing Herbology.

Link, for the past week, had successfully reigned in his impulse to slash every plant he saw to pieces, but, even with that step hesitantly taken, he showed zero aptitude for helping plants grow.

"Hello Neville, I'm Link," Link introduced himself.

Neville's head shot up, startled. "Whuh?" he looked around, blinking when he saw the small first year with the floppy green cap. "Um, hello to you too," Neville said, attempting to be polite.

"So, Alicia told me that you're really good at Herbology," Link said.

"She did?" Neville said, some wonder in his voice. He'd never really thought that any of the older Gryffindors really thought that he existed.

"Of course!" Link smiled. "You are, right? Good at Herbology?"

"I do like it quite a bit," Neville allowed, growing a bit pink.

"Awesome," Link grinned. "Could you help me with it? I'm an absolute disaster. Professor Sprout almost banned me from the greenhouses."

"You want my help?" Neville's voice squeaked a bit.

"Please," Link begged a little. He really did need the help. "It's really impossible for me to get any worse."

"Well, then," Neville twitched. "I _suppose_ I could give it a shot."

Link spun around and shot a hand in the air, triumphant.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Neville questioned.

"Nothing," Link blinked.

* * *

 **Gregory Goyle, Part 1** :

"Hey, Greg," Link sat at the Slytherin table. Link had to time his visits to the Slytherin table with finesse. Very early in the morning was a good time, he found.

Gregory Goyle nodded a greeting, a piece of bread in his mouth.

Link dug in to his own breakfast. Talking to Greg wasn't the easiest task, but Link thought it could be well worth the effort. Link got the impression that most people talked _at_ Greg, and not _to_ him.

"You doing okay with your Transfiguration work?" Link asked.

Greg frowned.

"Would you like me to look over what you have? Maybe another set of eyes could help," Link offered. He was pretty sure that Greg had an undiagnosed learning disability of some sort, but he didn't know enough about the topic to form any solid opinion.

"Okay," Greg allowed. He pulled a crumpled parchment out of his bag, and handed it to Link. He then pointedly continued to eat his breakfast.

Link peered over Greg's transfiguration homework. His handwriting was jagged and uneven.

"It looks like you have a good understanding of the major principles," Link said. "But you didn't reference any of the required texts."

"Didn't read them," Greg said mournfully.

"Okay," Link accepted that information. "Were the words mixing themselves around so it was hard for you to read them?"

Greg nodded.

"Maybe - " Link cut himself off. "I have an idea." He spotted Professor Flitwick trotting up to the staff table. He normally took an early breakfast.

"C'mon, Greg," Link pulled the Slytherin away from his breakfast and up to the Charms professor.

"Good morning, Professor Flitwick," Link greeted.

"Ah, yes, yes, good morning to you, too," he replied. "What you brings you here?"

"My friend Greg, here, has some trouble reading," Link began. Greg looked mortified. "The words and letter keep getting mixed up, which makes reading a book more like an Ancient Runes project than anything else. I was wondering if there are any charms that will read a section of text aloud that Greg could learn."

"I have just the thing!" Professor Flitwick squeaked. He even looked a bit relieved. The Charms Professor set about teaching the reading charm right then and there. Greg, overwhelmed, took some time memorizing the words and wand movements. By the time classes were set to start he was able to have the Daily Prophet read aloud using the charm – but only in an outrageous cockney accent.

Nevertheless, Greg seemed pleased. He smiled and thanked Link before he left for class.

* * *

 **Ginny Weasley, Part 1** :

"You will have one hour to brew you Hiccoughing Potion," Snape said, his voice soft. Nevertheless, it carried across the silent potions classroom. "Begin."

The first year potions students scrambled, grabbing their partners and collecting ingredients.

.

Link stationed himself next to Ginny, grinning happily. He loved brewing potions. Ginny, on the contrary, frowned at their shared cauldron. She thought potions class was an unholy abomination.

"Well," she sighed. "I suppose we'd better get on with it." She eyed the bokoblin guts with disgust. "You can dice that. I'll separate the flobberworm juices."

"Sounds good to me," Link allowed. He knew that he had diced up more disgusting things than bokoblin guts before. Strangely, he also thought he knew what roasted bokoblin guts tasted like, but he chose not to dwell on that knowledge.

The pair made good time, preparing ingredients competently and triple checking each step. Eventually all that was left was for the potion to simmer while being stirred counterclockwise, with a clockwise stir added after every 12th circumnavigation until the potion developed a cerulean sheen.

Ginny let Link stir the potion.

"Hey Ginny," Link said. "I've got a question. About wizarding culture."

"Another one?" Ginny sighed. Link, once he learned that Ginny was from a wizarding family, had taken to asking her odd questions about magical society. Questions from "What place does Peeves have in ghost society" to "How precisely to magical people age, because if Professor McGonagall is already getting on in years and she's sixty, and we can live for two hundred years, does that mean I'm going to be old for a century?"

Needless to say, Ginny did not enjoy the existential crises Link's questions brought on.

"Yeah," Link added in the clockwise turn. "Okay, so, the portraits. Exactly _how_ sentient are they? Because they seem to have wills and personalities of their own."

"Um," Ginny thought hard for a moment. "Kind of? The way Dad explained it to me, those portraits were painted with a special magical paint," Link nodded at that – magical paint seemed perfectly logical to him. "And, when this paint is spelled to, sort of, _reflect_ the thoughts and personality of the subject of the painting."

"So, it's the same person, but a reflection?" Link clarified. "And, the people in the paintings are not witches and wizards trapped there against their will?"

Ginny looked at him skeptically. "No," she said. "No, it's just the product of an enchantment. Nobody is trapped in a portrait."

Link looked a bit relieved at that. He thought he knew something about people being trapped in portraits, and he was glad that wasn't the case here.

"Okay, then, follow-up question," Link continued stirring the pot. "Do the portraits have equal representation in the magical government?"

"What?"

"I mean, they're thinking beings of a sort, right?" Link continued. "So, do they have a representative in government – or even the Hogwarts Board of Governors – to ensure that their interests are overseen? Like, to make sure that their portraits are well maintained or to oversee domestic disputes if people in the same painting have a row?"

"I-I don't know," Ginny admitted.

"Hm," Link considered. "Well, I'm of the firm opinion that two-dimensional beings deserve equal rights under the law of the land." Link wasn't quite certain how – it was nearly an odd a sensation as knowing how to conduct a train of all things – but he knew what it was like to be a painting on a wall.

"Oh, I think the potion is done," Ginny said, eager to change the subject. The topic was making her think of her diary – of Tom.

.

Later that night, with the curtains around her four-poster bed firmly closed, Ginny opened her diary and began to write to her friend, Tom Riddle.

 _Dear Tom,_

 _I hope you are doing well. Tom, I had the oddest conversation with Link today. Well, I mean, most conversations with Link are very odd – do you remember what I told you about his old age question? Well, anyway, Link was asking about the portraits and about whether they were people, trapped in the paintings. Obviously Link is wrong, but his question got me thinking – are you trapped, Tom? And, and if you are – well, you're my friend. I need to help you._

 _Ginny_

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! And, wonder of wonders, is that a glimmer of plot amidst the drabble-y nonsense? My personal deadline for the next update is June 28 (Wed), but it will more likely pop up on June 26 (Mon).**


	6. Part 6 - The Poltergeist

_**The Poltergeist – A Confrontation**_

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned belong to me.**

 **AN: I play somewhat fast and loose with chronology. Sorry about that.**

* * *

It was the greatest battle that had been seen in the Charm's corridor since James Potter and Sirius Black had gotten into a tiff over who was the better Keeper (this despite the fact that neither played in that position on the Quidditch Team). The stains of Technicolor goop from that particular confrontation had yet to fade from the stone work, and the painting of drunken gambling men at the far end of the corridor were wagering how long the stains from this, new battle would last.

"With Peeves involved," growled the largest of the painted men, "It'll be at least a decade." He took a swig from his goblet. He and his fellow gamblers worked hard to maintain their rosy, drunken cheeks.

Peeves, the infamous Hogwarts poltergeist, was the aggressor. His arsenal of dirty tricks and messy jokes was infamous, his pranking technique refined over ages of practice.

"But Link will try to stop it, won' he?" the slightest of the drunken gamblers interjected. "He tries his best to watch after us, he does."

The was a murmur of agreement, and a cross-eyed man slurred "hear, hear."

"That's true, there," the first man agreed. Word had spread among the portraits fast, word of the boy in the green cap who wiped the dust clean from their visages and repaired broken frames. The portrait leaders had come together and voted unanimously that whatever assistance Link requested from their number was to be granted.

The drunken men focused their gaze as best they could on the defender, Link. He appeared unfazed by Peeves leering and jeering, holding his wand confidently in his left arm, his knees slightly bent. To Link's side was a puddle of stinksap.

"You almost got me there, Peeves," Link arched an eyebrow.

Peeves lips jutted out in a pout. "Aw, and all little Peeves wanted was to have a stinky Linky," he cooed mockingly. "After all, ickle firsties need to know their _place_!" Peeves launched a barrage stink pellets.

Link jumped, flipped, and rolled, frantically dodging the smelly projectiles. A small crowd was gathering at either end of the Charm's hallway, the altercation between poltergeist and Gryffindor blocking traffic down the corridor.

"Blimey! Peeves has really got it out for the first year, eh?" a long-nosed red head remarked to his companions, a bushy-haired witch and a knobby-kneed wizard.

The poltergeist rifled through his pockets, looking for new instruments of mayhem. Link took this as his chance to launch his own counterattack. He ran forward, one arm slung over his face as a barrier against the stench of the stink pellets.

As a first year, Link did not know a very large number of spells. As such, Link relied on a physical attack, pulling a slingshot and a few giant pumpkin seeds (from Hagrid's giant pumpkins) from his pouch and taking aim, nailing and stunning Peeves with a pellet between the eyes.

Without stopping, Link withdrew his wand and yelled "Rictumsempra!" the tickling spell.

The poltergeist, now cackling uncontrollably, launched his own counterattack – grabbing and flinging an entire suit of armor at Link. "For your protection!" the poltergeist doubled over, howling with laughter.

At this, the trio of spectators sprung forward, worried that Link would be injured. The red head yelled out his own spell, "Wingardium Leviosa!" which slowed the descent of the armor, giving Link time to dodge to the side of the overlarge projectile.

Seized with inspiration, Link pulled the ornamental lance out of the hands of the suit of armor, and turned to face the now howling Peeves, armed with steel.

Peeves rushed the young Gryffindor, his laughter echoing maniacally. Link brandished his spear, slicing forward in a practiced arc, startling the poltergeist. Continuing the motion, Link turned over in the air, bringing the wood of the spear down on the poltergeist, striking Peeves to the ground.

Stumbling a bit on his landing, Link regained his footing, and stood over the poltergeist, spear angled threateningly.

"Do you yield?" Link asked lightly.

The poltergeist nodded, chuckling weakly.

Across the corridor, a portrait full of drunks cheered boisterously. "Knew he could do it," one of the portly me said, the whole party drank to the victory of their guardian.

"Finite incantatem," the bushy haired witch intoned. Peeves, the effect of the tickling charm nullified leaving him sulking, floated away.

"Blimey, mate," the red-head said with wonder. "Where'd you learn how to use that?" He looked quite like he wanted to take the spear for a couple swings with the spear himself.

Link shrugged, uncertain how to answer. Hermione looked at him sharply.

"Er, are you okay?" the boy with the messy black hair asked.

"I've had worse," Link sniffed experimentally. "Though I could probably use a shower. Or three. By the way, what's your name?"

The messy-haired boy winced slightly, but said "Harry Potter."

"Oh!" Link exclaimed. The Boy-Who-Lived, banisher of the Dark Lord.

Harry bit his lip, and Link felt a lurch of sympathy. He _knew_ , somehow, what it was like to be the hero. To have deeds and expectations tied to your name that were not of your own choosing, and to yearn for moments of normalcy and anonymity. So Link chose a different tack.

"The Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team! Alicia was telling me about you – did you really almost swallow the snitch?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione blinked in unison, and Harry's face cleared. "Er, yeah, that's me."

"Oh, wait, that wasn't very polite of me, was it?" Link rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "You probably don't want to be known as The-Guy-Who-Swallowed-The-Snitch, huh?"

The red-head guffawed, and Harry grinned. "That would be a nice change of pace, actually."

"And I already know Hermione," Link said. She had helped him with the color-changing charm for his hat. Hermione looked at Link appraisingly. "So you must be Ron, right? You made it past McGonagall's giant chess set."

Ron turned a bit pink. "'lo, there."

Link looked around the Charm's corridor – it was a mess. "I don't suppose they've taught you any cleaning charms by second year, have they?"

Harry and Ron looked shiftily at each other.

"Oh, _honestly,_ " Hermione rolled her eyes at the pair. "The incantation is _scourgify_. Make sure to keep the sweeping motion of the wand smooth, or the cleaning will be spotty."

"I knew that," Ron said defensively, and he set about scrubbing away the stink sap residue.

"Thanks," said Link. "I'm pretty sure I know how to reconstruct the armor, so I'll do that."

Harry and Hermione looked at him oddly, but Harry shrugged and turned to clean. Hermione, however, kept an eye on Link as he set to work.

Link frowned for a moment, then set to work. He arranged the armor so that it was lying prone on the ground, then set to attaching all the pieces together, first the sabatons (foot pieces) to the greaves (shin plates), and upward. He moved confidently, threading complicated ties without hesitation. At the end, he placed the helmet firmly upon the rest of the suit. The enchantment took hold once again, and the statue got to its feet, doing an inspection of all of its parts.

The suit of armor gave a nod, and Link handed the spear back over to its owner.

"Thank you for lending this to me," Link said, grateful. "Sorry Peeves threw you."

The suit of armor offered Link a small bow, and returned to its post.

"Link," Hermione said, her tone firm. "How did you know how to reconstruct a suit of medieval plate armor? And fight with a spear – and that spinning thing you did – just, how?"

Link very deliberately did not make eye contact. "Oh, I don't really know," he shrugged. "I did some spear fishing in the village," Link hedged. "Oh, look at the time – thanks for all your help, must go - "

"Wait - " Hermione began, but Link had fled. "Drat."

"Aw, did you scare him off Hermione?" Ron popped up, some stink pellet remnants on his robes. "Shame. The kid knows a chess master when he sees one."

…

 **AN: This chapter, by all rights, should not exist. I was trying to write a completely different scene, but this happened instead. I can't say I'm mad about it though. (But seriously, I was trying to avoid the Golden Trio but then they go and write themselves into my story. In the words of Professor McGonagall, "why is it, when something happens, that it's always you three?")**


	7. Part 7 - Snapshot

_**The Camera**_

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned belong to me.**

 **AN: I play somewhat fast and loose with chronology. Sorry about that.**

* * *

Link couldn't help but like Colin Creevey. He was an almost impossibly genuine individual, unironically enthusiastic about every facet of magic from the floating candles in the Great Hall to the local hero, Harry Potter.

That was part of what made practicing Charms with Colin so exciting, Link found, and he had quickly arranged joint evening study sessions with his new friend after the first week of school had passed. There was something gratifying about practicing magic with a person who, when Transfiguring a matchstick into a needle, said "Wow! Did you see that? It just turned a little silvery… oh, dear, now its turning maroon. Wow, maroon!"

Today they were practicing the levitation charm in the Gryffindor Common Room. Link didn't have too much trouble with the spell – he, apparently, already intimately _knew_ what the sensation of floating felt like personally which helped the spell function.

Colin, though, was having some difficulty getting his feather to float.

"WINGardium LeviOsa," Colin shouted, jabbing his wand a bit fiercely. The parchment he was practicing with remained motionless. At the adjoining table, Hermione Granger, working on a potions essay, sniffed.

Link frowned. "Let's try taking the spell apart – you know, practicing just the wand movements, then the incantation, then putting it back together again."

"Okay," agreed Colin, eager to get the spell to work. He wanted to be able to make things _fly_.

The pair of first years worked through the different portions of the spell – "Oh, I see, we need to put the emphasis on the second syllable of Wingardium, that should help" – and faced their parchments once more.

"WinGARdium LeviOsa," Colin incanted, giving his wand a more delicate swish and flick. His parchment floated into the air.

"Wow, that's amazing!" Colin's grin stretched across his face.

"It really is," Link agreed. "Hey, I have any idea about how we could get some more practice in." Link began to fold his piece of parchment, and within a few moments he had a serviceable airplane.

Colin was so giddy that he bounced in place. "Yes!" he cried and he pulled his parchment out of the air and started folding.

Within a minute the pair had their parchment airplanes aloft, zooming around the Common Room. Several of the year mates, seeing the fun, joined in with their own airplanes, and soon there were whole armadas cluttering the air. An older student constructed some goals and an aerial racetrack.

"Hey Colin could I use your camera?" Link asked. "I want to try to take a picture of all this."

"I thought you had never used a camera before?" Colin questioned. Hermione, who was editing her potion's essay looked at the pair critically.

"I think I'll be able to figure it out," Link shrugged.

"Well, if you're sure…" Colin said. "Hey, wait up!" Colin rushed to join a game of airplane cops and robbers.

Link headed back to their homework table, where Colin had left his camera. He really did want to have a picture of his friends playing with the airplanes. They all just looked so _happy_ , he wanted to have a record of it.

Link picked up the camera, and found his hunch was correct – though he didn't know how to operate Colin's camera, precisely, he _knew_ quite a bit about photography in general. He even knew some cool poses to use if he wanted to take a self portrait, oddly enough.

Link looked over the controls for a minute, and confident that he could apply his skills to this new device, set to work. Hermione, her potions essay forgotten, studied Link shrewdly.

Within a few minutes Link had his undeveloped prints and was confident that he had a few good shots in the bunch. He'd have to ask Colin for helping with developing – he was quite certain he didn't _know_ anything about that.

Link put the camera down and moved to rejoin the fun, but found himself face to face with Hermione Granger.

"Oh, hello," Link said, a bit startled. "Oh, is all this" - he gestured at the raucous game of aerial keep away the other first years were engaged in – "disturbing your studies?"

"What? No, that's not it," Hermione shook her head. "No it's just – how did you know how to operate Colin's camera."

Link shifted his weight. He didn't like lying. "I don't know," he said as truthfully as he could. It was true that he didn't know the cause for his latent knowledge.

"And that's not all – you knew how to reconstruct that suit of armor, and wield a spear," Hermione pressed. "Or that slingshot! Who carries a slingshot? Where do you even learn how to use a slingshot?"

"Slingshot school?" Link hedged.

"Slingshot school does not _exist_ , Link," Hermione said. "And, if there is a slingshot school, the odds that you've attended it are practically nil."

"Ah."

"Well?" pressed Hermione.

"What?" Link said.

"How do you know how to do all of these things, Link?" Hermione asked.

She wasn't going to let this go, Link admitted to himself.

"Fine, I'll tell you what I can," Link allowed. "But not here. I don't need everybody knowing about this."

"Good," Hermione said, and she grabbed him by the arm and led him out of the portrait hole to a nearby empty classroom. She sat Link down at a desk, then cast a couple charms on the door. "Nobody should be able to overhear. Now spill."

Somewhat off balance, Link hesitated.

"Come on, now," Hermione urged him along.

"Sorry," Link said. "It's just, I haven't told anybody but my Grandma about this before, so it's a little weird being put on the spot like this."

"Link, if you can't…" Hermione said, abashed.

"No, it's fine," Link waved her objection away. "You might know something about it that my Grandma didn't.

"My Grandma must have figured it out first," Link began. "When I was a baby. Everything – crawling, walking, eating – I knew how to do it already. When I babbled, apparently it sounded like I was saying words, just in a language no one could recognize. It took me a little while to pick up how to speak English."

"Link, that's - "

"Weird, right?" Link grinned. "The first time I noticed was when I went on my first fishing trip. I grew up in a fishing village, so they take us out real young – I couldn't have been older than three or four. Anyway, Orca took me out on this fishing skiff, and I remember thinking _I know how to do this_. So I grabbed the tiller, adjusted the sail, and set to sea like a master seaman."

"My Grandma managed to play it off like I was just a natural, but these _incidents_ just kept happening. Almost every physical activity I already knew how to do – cartwheels, handstands, backflips, brawling, climbing - though sometimes my body couldn't quite keep up with my reflexes."

"But it's not just physical stuff," Hermione interjected. "You _know_ about other things, as well."

"Right," agreed Link. "I _know_ how to fish and swim. I _know_ every Hylian creation myth, and how to navigate using the stars. I _know_ how to read a compass, and a map, and how to care for a sword. I can conduct a train, too."

"Did you _know_ about magic, before going to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

"I _knew_ magic existed, and that the fantastic was out there, if you searched hard enough. I had no idea, though, that I was a wizard, or that there was a secret magical society," Link said, grinning. "It's amazing being here, doing magic. Most spells, even the idea of wands, it's all brand new to me. I love being able to go to class and know that I'm going to learn something new. It's like, in the magical world I get to be more normal than anywhere else."

Hermione was reminded, almost painfully of Harry. "Well, I suppose there's just one thing to do, then," Hermione said.

"And what is that?" Link looked up at the older girl.

"Figure out everything you _know_ , of course," Hermione said briskly. "You can't just keep stumbling around, and find out you already know how to churn butter or fly out of the blue. People will start to get suspicious."

"So?" Link said. He tended not to be terribly fussed about what "people" thought.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine, then so that if you _do_ happen to know how to fly you don't learn about that until you're falling off a cliff. Or somebody else is falling off a cliff, and you don't rescue them because you don't _know_ that you can."

Link nodded - that made a good deal of sense.

"Excellent!" Hermione cheered.

Somehow, Hermione's excitement was not particularly reassuring to Link.

…

An hour later, Link drew the curtains of his four poster bed closed and sat criss-cross on his bed. Across from him sat a small statuette of the Goddess, a gift from his grandmother.

Hello, he thought, and he felt the Goddess say _hello_ in return.

Then he thought of his worries, of how he _knew_ things he should not, and his concerns about whether he could trust Hermione, who was little more than an acquaintance.

The Goddess granted Link a warm wave of _reassurance_ , and a fierce sense of _confidence_ and _trust_ in him.

Link smiled.

"Okay, then let's do this," he said, _sotto voce_.

And the Goddess's _smile_ was one of an old friend.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope to have the next chapter posted by Friday or Saturday. What do you think of Hermione here?**

 **(Also, a big thanks to all of the anon reviewers. I'll keep your comments in mind!)**


	8. Part 8 - Lost and Found

**Link Faron, Gryffindor**

 **Part 8**

 ** _Lost and Found_**

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned belong to me.**

 **AN: I play somewhat fast and loose with chronology. Sorry about that.**

…

"Begging your pardon, Link, but could I steal a moment of your time?" Nearly-Headless Nick asked.

Link looked over to Ginny. They were walking back to the Common Room to play some exploding snap until it was time for the Halloween Feast. Link tried to make time to hang out with Ginny and Colin when he wasn't exploring the castle, as both were having difficulty connecting with their year mates, and didn't seem to want to hang out with each other, which Link believed would have been a very elegant solution.

"I'll go on ahead," Ginny said quickly. Ron had complained about attending Nick's Deathday Party, and she didn't want to receive an invitation as well. Besides – this would give her time to write to Tom before the feast!

"Say hi to Colin for me!" Link called. Ginny pretended not to hear. "So, Sir Nick, what do you need me for?" The ghost looked particularly festive, his ruff extending several inches further out than was usual.

"Well, there is a bit of a delicate situation, I've been told," Nearly-Headless Nick began.

Link nodded seriously. Over the past couple weeks, the various permanent residents of Hogwarts – ghosts, portraits, suits of armor and the odd sentient statue – had taken to calling on Link for assistance when there was an issue it would be difficult to solve amongst themselves. Link had gotten very good at cleaning and repairing charms.

"The Grey Lady, you know, the ghost of Ravenclaw Tower, says that one of her students seems to be quite distraught," Sir Nick said quickly. "The student is wandering the halls on the 7th Floor – could you maybe go check on her? I would help more, but…"

"Go celebrate your Deathday, Sir Nick," Link said. "I'll see what I can do."

Link reviewed his mental map of Hogwarts, and decided that the fastest path he knew of from the 2nd Floor Transfiguration corridor to the 7th Floor was to request a lift on Madame Murray's pulley system.

Link pulled out a piece of parchment and began composing. Madame Murray required payment in order to use her pulley system – a single haiku. The better the haiku the faster the trip. Link had been caught off guard on his last trip and had hastily presented the haiku:

 _One, Two, Three, Four Five_

 _Seven, Six, Five, Four, Three, Two_

 _One, Oh Shoot. Darn it._

Needless to say, Madame Murray had been thoroughly unimpressed. The pulley had risen at a snail's pace.

Link rounded the corner and approached Madame Murray's portrait. She cut an imposing figure with her ostrich hat and matching handbag.

"Link," Madame Murray said imperiously. "Come to share another stunning composition? Perhaps you'll recite the alphabet this time." She scowled at Link as if he were a particularly offensive beetle.

"Ah, no, Madame Murray," Link said, holding up his parchment. "I've come more prepared this time."

"A parchment? How deeply enthralling," Madame Murray said.

"Will you hear it or not?" Link said testily.

"Why not? I could do with a laugh."

"Fine," Linked cleared his throat.

 _Nearly-Headless Nick_

 _Head joined to body by a_

 _Hands-breadth of sinew_

Madame Murray sniffed.

"Well?" Link said, impatient.

"Oh, I suppose it will do," Madame Murray opened the door to the pulley system. "But you're really missing the _spirit_ of the art."

Link muffled a laugh. "Spirit," he said under his breath.

Madame Murray looked appalled. "That was _not_ a pun," she said officiously.

Link got onto the trolley attached to the pulley. "Sure it wasn't."

The trolley started it's ascent. The pace was moderate at best.

"Oh, come on," Link complained. "That haiku was decent."

…

One painfully slow trolley ride later Link emerged on the seventh floor, and he set out immediately to look for the student in distress. He assumed that the student was a Ravenclaw, since the request for an intervention had come from the Grey Lady. He did know, however, what kind of situation the student was caught up in. Perhaps they had gotten caught on one of the trick stairs? There was a particularly tricky one on this floor.

Link's musings came to an end when, in his distraction, he collided with another student. Link stumbled for a moment, regaining his balance, thought the other student managed to maintain her equilibrium.

"Sorry about that," Link said to the other student, a slight Ravenclaw girl. He studied her for a moment, and recognized her from a couple of his classes – Transfiguration and History of Magic. "You're Luna, right? I think we worked together Transfiguring twine into string."

"Mmm, yes," Luna said, her protuberant silvery eyes not quite focusing on Link. "That was quite nice."

"We should partner up again sometime," Link said. "You really are quite good at getting a handle on the essence changing process, it would be nice to have some help." Link suspected that it was Luna Nearly-Headless Nick had sent him to help, though she didn't really look to be in distress. She looked distracted and dreamy, though, if Link remembered correctly, that was her normal state.

"That would be nice," Luna agreed, her focus elsewhere.

"So, would you like to head down to the Halloween Feast with me?" Link asked.

"Oh, no," Luna declined. "I'm afraid I've had some of my things misplaced."

"That's no fun," Link sympathized. "Would you like some help? I'm pretty good at finding lost things."

"I thought it was the Hufflepuffs who were particularly good finders?" Luna questioned breezily.

"Er, maybe?" Link hedged. He hadn't heard that attribute touted in the Sorting Hat's song, but perhaps there were other verses that Luna knew of. "Anyway, I _know_ how to find missing things, if you'd like some help."

Luna looked like she wanted to brush him off.

"Please? I really do like exploring the castle, looking for things," Link pleaded.

"That is true," Luna looked slightly mollified. "Okay, Sir Link, adventure awaits us. Lead the way."

Link ignored his sense of déjà vu with practiced ease. "Right. Are any of your missing items part of a matching set? That will help."

Luna lifted up the hem of her robes, revealing that she was wearing only one shoe. "Will that do?" she asked.

"Perfect," Link said. He knelt down and pointed his wand at Luna's remaining shoe, and, within a few moments he _knew_ that his wand would be able to douse for the missing footwear. He raised his wand aloft, spun around for a moment, then set off in the direction where the signal was strongest, Luna following along behind.

Luna looked mildly interested, like she had just witnessed a particularly diverting plot twist in a television program.

"If I follow where the pulses from my wand are the strongest, that should lead us to your shoe," Link explained.

"That wasn't a spell," Luna said.

"No," Link replied. "It's just one of the things I _know_ my wand can do."

"Your wand isn't a normal wand," Luna stated.

"I'm quite certain it's not," Link agreed.

Luna brightened. "Why, then this really _is_ an adventure," Luna smiled. "Two companions setting out on a journey in a magic castle on Samhain night!"

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing? I really do appreciate every word so much - I had the rug pulled out from under me professionally this past week and hearing your words of encouragement for this fic helped remind me that, yes, I am a competent human being of value, even if a bunch of old guys are too close minded to recognize it. (Sorry, I'm salty.) Apologies for unloading here, and thank you for the support. *Hugs for All***


	9. Part 9 - Chance Encounters

**Link Faron, Gryffindor**

 **Part 9**

 _ **A Few Chance Encounters**_

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned belong to me.**

 **AN: I play somewhat fast and loose with chronology. Sorry about that.**

…

"Say, Luna, why were you searching for your missing things on the Seventh Floor?" Link asked, jogging down the third floor corridor. "If my wand is correct, your shoe at least is on a lower floor than that."

Luna considered this as she jogged on her toes springily. She had taken off her remaining shoe and had it strapped to her hand like an inflexible glove.

"Well, I was looking for the Room of Hidden Things, of course," Luna said matter-of-factly.

"Oh?" Link said, his interest thoroughly piqued. He considered words like "hidden" and "secret" and "forbidden" and "lost" to be a personal challenge.

"It's a magic room, of course," Luna continued. "My mother said that she found it on the seventh floor, though she couldn't quite figure out _how_ she'd found it. It's filled with all sorts of lost objects."

"That's incredible," Link said. "Say, once we've tracked down your shoe, would you mind if I look for the Room of Hidden Things with you?"

Luna looked at Link, her silver eyes gleaming. "No, I don't think I would mind."

"Excellent," Link smiled at the prospect of another adventure. He stopped. His wand thrummed as if his quarry was within sight, but the shoe was nowhere to be seen. "Not again," Link sighed.

"Wrong floor?" Luna asked. "Or perhaps the wrackspurts are interfering with the signal?"

"Maybe," Link said. He assumed that "wrackspurt" was a piece of magical jargon he hadn't learned yet. "I think – no, I _know_ , that my wand has never been particularly good at distinguishing between highs and lows. It's better at directions on a plane."

Luna accepted that explanation without protest, and they set off, Luna with a spring in her step, and Link at a practiced jog. Within a few minutes they were on the second floor.

The primary fixture of the second floor was the Transfiguration wing, which had Professor McGonagall's classroom, office, and supply room. The Defense Against the Dark Arts wing was on the opposite end of the floor closer to the bathrooms.

The dousing mechanism of his wand indicated to Link that the missing shoe was on the DADA side of the floor, so the duo set out in that direction at a jog.

Link knew, at last, that they were headed in the correct direction, the thrumming of his sword-turned-wand confident and steady.

"I think we've got it now – oh," Link paused. In the distance, the floor was sparkling – it was wet. "I think the bathroom has flooded."

"Perhaps someone has upset Myrtle," Luna blink mournfully.

"Maybe," Link knelt, and put a hand to the wall. Something was wrong here, though he didn't know what. The wall thrummed, and there was a low, long hiss. Was that the pipes, complaining at the rush of water from Myrtle's tantrum?

Link listened closely with his long ears, and heard the shuffle of feet in water – and, was that the scrape of scales against stone? Link did not know for certain, and a large part of him wanted to rush forward to investigate and confront the threat he felt in his bones.

But he did not dare risk the safety of his new friend.

"Link?" Luna asked, the slightest edge to her normally airy voice.

"There's something over there," Link said. "Something dangerous. Let's turn back."

And Link set off, not at a jog but at a sprint, grasping Luna steadily by the arm. He stretched his hearing as well as he could, and guessed (hoped) that the monster was not pursuing, though he could not be certain as much of the sound was drowned out by the frantic beating of his own heart.

They were passing Madame Murray's portrait when Link heard a new sound – the clatter of footsteps. It was Harry, Ron, and Hermione – and they were running _toward_ the flooded bathroom and the monster.

"Stop! Turn back!" Link yelled frantically.

"Link? What are you doing here?" Ron panted. He looked winded.

"Never mind that now," Link and Harry said in unison. They looked at each other.

"I-I heard a voice," Harry said quickly. "It says that it's going to murder someone, tear them apart… it was going this way."

"It was. I heard a monster," Link said. "Now, how about we run _away_ from the creature we are ill-prepared to defeat."

"Let's go, Harry," Hermione urged her friend.

Harry hesitated. "But, but somebody could be in danger…"

"Harry, I get it," Link said. "I want to help, too. But we are not prepared. You don't just go tearing off after the threat. That's how you wind up getting yourself and your friends killed. You gather the information, the weapons, and the expertise you need, _and then_ you face the monster. And if you die, you can tell yourself honestly that you did everything you could."

Harry looked like he wanted to protest, but he acquiesced with a slight nod.

"Good," Link said tersely. "Now, let's _go._ " He broke into a run again, and his companions followed behind.

A few tense minutes later they were at the of Professor McGonagall's office.

"Why're we here?" Ron asked.

"Closest safe place I could think of," Link said. There was a statue of Athena by the door that Link addressed. "Please grant us asylum here. Danger stalks the halls."

The statue nodded, withdrawing a knife from within her robes. The door opened, and, once all five students were within the office, it closed and audibly locked.

"How did you know about that?" Ron asked, totally bewildered (and quite impressed).

"I'm incorrigible," Link admitted with a grin.

"I wonder if McGonagall's never ending sandwich platter is around here…" Ron said, peering about the room. Hermione gave him a look. "What? There was absolutely nothing to eat at that Deathday party."

"Sandwiches are nice," interjected Luna airily.

"Exactly," Ron agreed, though he seemed a bit put out that his only assistance was coming from someone with a distinct air of dottiness.

"You said you saw a monster," Harry rounded on Link, all business.

"Oh, Link didn't see the monster," Luna floated over, taking her shoe off her hand and replacing it on her foot, now that she was no longer running. "You heard it, right?"

"I heard something big, that's for certain," Link frowned. "Scales. Hissing. It was probably a reptile."

"Perhaps it was an Umgubular Slashkilter," Luna suggested.

"A what?" Hermione questioned.

"An Umgubular Slashkilter," Luna said seriously. "They are often found in damp places…"

"Could we have the lesson later, Luna?" Link asked, trying to redirect the conversation. Even behind McGonagall's defenses, there was still a danger of attack. "I want to bolster our defenses. If the monster gets past Athena we're sitting ducks. Hermione, are there any charms you know that could help?"

"A few," Hermione said. She set to work, muttering to herself seriously.

"I'll check around, see if McGonagall has a backdoor we could escape through in a pinch," Harry said.

"Sandwich platter?" questioned Luna.

"We need to keep up our strength," Ron agreed seriously.

They set off together, looking through McGonagall's things.

"Right," Link huffed. Physical defenses. "Sorry, Professor McGonagall," he muttered to himself, and he set to work.

…

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Guest reviewers - thank you all so much for your suggestions and support. I won't reply to you all in text here, but I really do appreciate each of your kind messages. For at least the next couple weeks I am going to try a MWF update schedule, for as long as I continue to have several chapters written ahead of what I post.**


	10. Part 10 - McGonagall's Very Long Day

**Link Faron, Gryffindor**

 **Part 10**

 _ **Professor McGonagall's Very Long Day**_

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned belong to me.**

 **AN: I play somewhat fast and loose with chronology. Sorry about that.**

…

Professor McGonagall surveyed the Halloween Feast with a scowl – _five_ of her Gryffindors were absent, _four_ of whom she knew fell into trouble as easily as breathing, and that last of which was a Weasley.

Last Halloween the trio had gotten themselves trapped in a bathroom with a troll, and she was quite certain that, had Link been there he would have probably tried to slay the beast or some nonsense.

Minerva stabbed at her vegetables with more vigor than was strictly necessary. None of the other Heads of House experienced quite the same number headaches she did, herding intrepid young Gryffindors.

She signaled the Weasley Twins covertly. The pair had proven to be a useful resource, once she had convinced them that she'd give them a little room for some well-meaning mayhem in return for them keeping an eye out for any more malicious troublemaking or bullying.

This arrangement had proven true on several occasions, including one particularly contentious situation with Cormac McLaggen. The Weasley Twins were aware of an area of Hogwarts culture that Prefects frequently couldn't oversee.

George strutted up to the staff table.

"Mr. Weasley," Minerva said.

"Is that treacle pudding?" George said.

"You can take it on your way back," Minerva allowed. "Mr. Weasley, where are you younger siblings?"

"Nearly-Headless Nick's Deathday Party," George said. "Or, at least Ron is at any rate. He wouldn't stop complaining about missing the feast."

"Harry and Hermione are there as well," Professor McGonagall ventured. "Well, that's something at least. I don't suppose you know where Ginny or Link are either."

George frowned. "I think Ginny is still up in Gryffindor Tower, writing in her diary. I'll make sure to bring her some food," George promised. "I don't know about Link, but the portraits like him, so they'll pass word along if something comes up."

"Right," Minerva nodded. She could relax a little then. "Go, grab your tart. Remember, I scolded you harshly for your many misdemeanors." George grinned cheekily at that. "And don't look so pleased with yourself."

…

Minerva noticed the water first, which in and of itself wasn't too terribly unusual. Myrtle was known for her tantrums, after all, and perhaps there had been some sort of debacle at Sir Nick's Deathday Party, McGonagall reasoned.

Any hope of a simple explanation faded as Professor McGonagall rounded the corner. Some students were all ready gathered, gaping. Minerva threaded her way through the crowd – she was dimly aware that Draco Malfoy was spouting some nonsense off, but the words were lost to her as she read the message inscribed on the wall in dawning horror:

 _The Chamber of Secrets has been Opened_

 _Enemies of the Heir, Beware_

Beside the blood red declaration was Mrs. Norris, hanging disrespectfully by her tail. Minerva felt her blood boil – Mrs. Norris was a good and loyal familiar, and a dear friend. This act was cruel, and Minerva burned to see justice wrought.

But Minerva steadied herself. Her first responsibility was to see to the safety of the students – retribution would come later.

Professor McGonagall pressed the tip of her wand to her throat, wordlessly casting the charm that would send her voice echoing throughout the halls of Hogwarts. "All students are to return to their dormitories," the Deputy Headmistress ordered. "Prefects are to patrol the halls in pairs. Any deviation from these instructions is prohibited."

Professor McGonagall cancelled the charm. "Miss Clearwater, Miss Valentino," she turned to the first pair of prefects she spied. "Go fetch Professor Dumbledore. He may already be on his way here." The pair of Ravenclaws hurried in the direction of the Headmaster's Office.

That took care of the immediate problem… until Filch rounded the corner and saw his cat and started accusing every student in sight of murder. Then bane-of-her-existence Gilderoy Lockhart arrived, and Minerva wished suddenly and fiercely to turn into a cat and find a nice, sunny patch of grass to lie in.

…

Minerva left Lockhart's office hastily, before she gave into her strong inclination to punch the man in his perfect, glinting teeth.

Very little had been resolved. Perhaps the only redeeming moment in that entire debacle of a staff meeting was Albus's prognosis that Mrs. Norris was not dead, only petrified.

"No mere student could have done this," Albus had said, and the words chilled Minerva to the bone. He couldn't _possibly_ mean – and Minerva cut herself off there, unwilling to dwell on the thought that Albus had sounded much like he had during the war, and that it was eleven years ago tonight You-Know-Who murdered two of her dearest students.

She needed to do a headcount – to check that each and every one of her charges was safely ensconced in their Tower, guarded from attack. Minerva rushed down the hallway to her office, where she could retrieve the Gryffindor register. She wished to leave nothing to chance.

Minerva rounded the corner to and was startled to see the statue of Athena she had enchanted to guard her office was active, settled into a fighting stance with her stone knife drawn.

Minerva immediately held her own wand aloft. Perhaps the guardian statue had encountered the Heir, or perhaps the creature rumored to dwell within the Chamber of Secrets?

Moving forward with the expertise that had saved her life during the last war, Minerva opened her office door with a charm.

Her office was a disaster zone. The way in was barred by bookcases and her desk, their contents upended. A layer of protective enchantments and nasty jinxes proved a second barrier.

On top of one bookshelf was Link, wielding a crossbow – who let him have a _crossbow_ of all things? – that was trained on Professor McGonagall.

Well, at least she had found one of her rogue Gryffindors.

"Professor?" a second voice called. A bushy haired head popped up. Hermione. "Is that you?"

And another. "I'm afraid it is," Minerva said.

"It might not be," said Link, crossbow still trained on Professor McGonagall's head. "For all we know, the monster could be a shape shifter, or, I don't know, maybe there are disguise spells or something."

"I think my dad mentioned something like that once," another head popped up, this one fiery red. That would be Gryffindor number three, Minerva counted drily.

"She could be a Guiserable Billywimble," a fourth head, this one blonde, popped up. A Ravenclaw this time, and McGonagall added a trip to their tower to her agenda for the evening.

"We just need to ask her something only the real Professor McGonagall would know," a head of permanently windswept hair followed. Four Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw, Minerva counted to herself. "What did you do when I caught a Remembrall?"

"I made you the Hogwarts Seeker, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall. "Now, why exactly have you turned my office into a warzone?"

All eyes turned to Link, who had lowered his crossbow. "We heard a monster," he said. Ron looked a bit sheepish.

Minerva's heart skipped a beat. They _heard_ the creature that petrified Mrs. Norris? These kids – _her_ kids – had been moments away from mortal peril. Suddenly, Minerva felt she had never been more grateful to see her office destroyed.

"If you would step down, please, I'll begin setting my office to rights," McGonagall ordered, and the students complied. "Miss Granger, if you could start on the countercharms for some of your jinxes?"

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," Hermione complied.

Minerva wordlessly cast several charms, and furniture and books and knickknacks began to fly about the room, setting themselves into their original positions. Link's crossbow resumed its original shape as a decorative globe, and Minerva reminded herself to give Hermione several points for her excellent spell work. As an afterthought Minerva conjured several additional chairs for the students.

Minerva sat behind her desk, and feeling at least somewhat on top of the situation, gave each student a penetrating stare in turn. "Now, I would appreciate it if you would tell me _exactly_ what happened here tonight."

The story – or stories, perhaps – came out in a jumble, students talking over each other, interjecting asides.

"Harry, you left out the bit about the voice," Link said, when Harry described how he, Ron, and Hermione had run into Link and Luna. "You know, the murder voice in the walls that nobody else could hear."

Harry shot Link an uncomfortable look.

"What?" Link said, and carried on with his part of the tale obliviously.

"So, to be clear," McGonagall summarized. "Link heard a giant, scaly monster, and managed to convince the rest of you to run away from it?"

"We also found your sandwich platter," Ron added.

"Of course, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall. "Well, then, I think that will be 10 points to each of you for reacting appropriately in a time of crisis."

"Professor McGonagall, do you know what the monster might have been? Or if it was even really there?" Harry asked.

"Oh, there was most definitely a monster stalking these halls tonight," McGonagall said. "I'm afraid if Mr. Faron had not turned back when he did both he and Miss Lovegood would have been gravely injured."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"What I mean is – well, it is the talk of Hogwarts at this point, most likely," McGonagall pursed her lips. "Mrs. Norris was petrified, most likely by the monster you heard, Mr. Faron."

"Petrified?" Ron asked.

"Petrification," McGonagall explained. "Is a dark magic. The victim is frozen as a statue, unable to move or think. Thankfully, there are cures available to us."

"There's a Petrification ward in the Department of Mysteries," Luna added, her eyes wide. "Where Fudge stores his most influential political opponents."

"Ahem, yes, well," Professor McGonagall hedged. "There is more. Mrs. Norris was found next to a message:

 _The Chamber of Secrets has been opened_

 _Enemies of the Heir, Beware"_

"Chamber of Secrets?" Link asked, an excited gleam in his eyes.

"Perhaps that's where my shoe is," Luna said airily.

…

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! The update schedule, for now, is MWF. What do you think of McGonagall's POV?**


	11. Part 11 - Fraternizing with a Cephalopod

**Fraternizing with Cephalopods**

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned are mine.**

 **AN: I play somewhat fast and loose with chronology. Sorry about that.**

…

 _(Note: This section takes place in Mid-October, before the opening of the Chamber of Secrets.)_

The sun had not yet risen above the horizon, but its light washed the sky a mixture of yellows and reds fading to a deep violet. Link grasped the tiller of his skiff, lake water lapping at the sides gently, breathing in the fresh pre-dawn air.

There was little Link enjoyed more than sailing as the sun rose – he imagined a symphony greeting the day, the entr'acte of adventure.

This morning's adventure took some preparation – namely, acquiring a boat. Thankfully, Hagrid, the Gamekeeper, was amenable to loaning out one of the small boats the first years used to cross the lake. The giant of a man even, with some begging and promises to keep very silent on the topic, pulled out his pink umbrella and shown Link the incantation used to make the skiff propel itself.

And, while Link might have preferred a sail, he supposed magical self-propulsion would do. He _knew_ that, at one point, he sailed the sea under more annoying circumstances.

But those times were behind him. The sky was blossoming, the lake was glistening, and there was a massive cephalopod that Link simply had to visit.

Link first learned of the giant squid by eavesdropping on a few Slytherins. (Link made a regular habit of eavesdropping whenever possible. He was absolutely shameless, but as Link seemed to always be everywhere doing everything it was written off as quirk.)

Initially, Link was taken aback by this information – weren't giant squids dangerous creatures with far too many eyes that generated their own personal whirlpools?

He expressed this worry to Angelina Johnson (she took it upon herself to be, as she called it, Link's liaison to the "real world") who rolled her eyes fondly at him.

"No, Link," and she ruffled his hair fondly which Link took stiffly because he was _not_ adorable, not _really_ anyway. "The giant squid only has two eyes, and I've never seen it create a whirlpool. The squid is pretty nice, I've heard. Keeps any students from drowning, stuff like that."

And with that, Link was hooked. A giant sea monster that was _nice_? He simply had to meet the squid in person.

And, as the sun coasted above the horizon, he did. The giant squid surfaced with a splash, setting Link's small boat back several feet. The shape of the squid's head was reminiscent of a bishop's hat (or perhaps it was the other way around?), and several tentacles dotted with rows of suckers waved above the surface. What was most striking about the squid's appearance, however, were its eyes – protuberant eyes the size of the wheels of a truck, the pupil a vast inky tunnel.

Link ignored his first instinct to pull out a boomerang and face his ancient enemy, because this was not the cephalopod he thought he knew. This squid was not a sinker of ships, but a guardian of children, and ought to be respected as such. Besides, he didn't have a boomerang yet.

Link moved to the prow of his small ship and called out a greeting.

One tentacle gave a tiny wave.

Was the squid nervous? Link wondered. Angelina hadn't mentioned that the squid was a shy monster of the deep.

"Right, well," Link wavered, a bit nervous himself. "I hope you're having a good morning – I definitely am." Link warmed up a bit to the topic. "I mean, the sunrise is gorgeous, and I'm on a boat, and I've met you!"

Quizzically, the giant squid shifted its head to the right. However, as there is very little distinction between head and body for cephalopods, this made it look like the squid was doing its best impression of the leaning tower of Pisa.

Link resisted the urge to tilt his own head. "No really!" Link protested. "I mean, you really are a very polite giant squid, coming out to meet me when I visited unannounced. Thank you for that."

The squid's head was vertical once again, and it gave an odd shimmy. Link thought the squid looked quite pleased.

"So, what are you doing in a lake in the middle of Scotland?" Link asked. "I would think that you would be more comfortable in the open ocean."

Several tentacles went high up in the air and started flapping frenetically.

Link considered this bizarre scene for a second – then a flash of insight came to him. He _knew_ what had caused the giant squid so much grief out in the open ocean.

"Seagulls!" Link yelled triumphantly. "The seagulls kept following you and your kin around, so you came to a magical lake in the middle of Scotland to get away from them."

The squid nodded, which caused a small wave to jostle Link's boat, but the squid reached out with a couple tentacles and helpfully put the situation to rights.

"I'm really sorry about that," Link said. "It must have been terribly frustrating being stalked by those birds."

The squid waved a tentacle dismissively, as if it so say that it was in the past now, and that there was no need to dredge up old hurts.

"You know what?" Link said. "I think you're my favorite cephalopod."

* * *

 _(Note: This takes place in the days following the opening of the Chamber of Secrets.)_

"So what do you think Slytherin's monster is?" Luna asked conversationally, as if she were commenting on the weather (dreary – it was November in Scotland).

"I know that I heard scales," Link considered. "Scraping across the stone."

The pair was walking along the third floor corridor, dousing for one of Luna's missing earrings, the match of the earring shaped like a rook dangling from her right ear. They had already found Luna's missing shoe, on the windowsill in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. The wailing ghost herself had not been in attendance.

"I suppose it wouldn't be a Crumple-Horned Snorkack then," Luna frowned mournfully. Link looked at her, confused. He hadn't heard of that particular magical creature before. "They don't have scales. I don't believe they can petrify people, either."

"So, we're looking at a reptile - "

"Or sea creature," Luna added.

"Sea creature?" Link quirked an eyebrow.

"They have scales too," Luna asserted primly. "Don't be so terracentric, Link."

Link blinked, as he found himself often doing the more he associated with Luna Lovegood. "But we're in a _castle_ ," Link sputtered. "How could a sea monster travel around in a castle?"

"We have plumbing, Link," Luna said matter-of-factly. "You heard it in the wall first, right? Then it emerged into the puddle of water by the bathroom. Simple."

"But it can't be a sea monster, Luna," Link argued. "It has to be a reptile – probably a snake. Since it's Slytherin's monster, and snakes are his thing. Then it would all match thematically."

"Not everything has to be themed, Link," Luna brushed a flyaway hair out of her face.

"Well, yes," Link backpedaled. "But, well, it seems like there _usually_ is a theme. Like, if you were to, hypothetically, enter an ancient fire temple a monster you would encounter there would – again, hypothetically – be a giant lava hand or a Dodongo or something."

"What's a Dodongo?" Luna asked, her eyes focusing on Link.

"Er, a scary lizard that breathes fire," Link hedged. "I think." He _knew._

"We should find one," Luna suggested.

"Sure," Link agreed. "I think they live in volcanoes."

"I'll ask Daddy about a trip!" Luna chirped.

Link noticed a specific thrum from his wand, and looked about. "The earring is around here someplace," Link announced.

The pair searched, and within a few moments Luna had found the earring, dangling from the protuberant nose of Griselda the Ghastly. Luna put the earring in its rightful place eagerly.

"Thank you very much, Link," Luna smiled. "Now I won't be so off balanced."

"I was happy to help," Link smiled. "After all, what else are friends for?"

"Friends?" Luna said, and there was the note of question in her voice, that Link recognized intimately from his own times of loneliness, where it was just him against a world on the brink of destruction.

"Of course," Link smiled. "We've gone on some adventures, escaped a snake –"

"Sea monster - "

"Snake," Link grinned. "It fits the theme. But the bit about the plumbing is genius, I wouldn't be surprised if you were right. Anyway, we're definitely friends."

Luna's grin could have wiped the dour look off of even Snape's face. "You know, it could be a _sea_ snake."

"You are _brilliant_ Luna Lovegood," Link laughed. "Sea snake it is."

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! What do you think of the giant squid? Or the characterization of Luna? Updates MWF!**


	12. Part 12 - Siesta with a Sarmaree

**Link Faron, Gryffindor**

 **Part 12**

 _ **Siesta with the Sarmaree**_

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned belong to me.**

 **AN: I play somewhat fast and loose with chronology. Sorry about that.**

…

Before becoming friends with Luna, Defense Against the Dark Arts class was pretty fun. Link recognized that over the course of two months he had learned absolutely nothing worthwhile about defensive magic, but he wasn't particularly fussed about that, because Gilderoy Lockhart was _hilarious_.

(Example:

"Now, class, there is a particular trick to brandishing your wand properly," Lockhart flashed his teeth. "Now, watch this wand movement carefully," he flourished his wand exorbitantly, and it flew out of his hands stabbing one of his many grinning portraits between the eyes. "Oh dear, well, that does happen sometimes, but when it does work it really looks quite dashing," he rushed up to his portrait. " 'Roy, 'Roy, my beautiful effigy, are you well? How many fingers am I holding up?")

After becoming friends with Luna, Defense Against the Dark Arts class became positively uproarious. This was due in large part to the Quibbler article Luna shared with Link over lunch.

"It's one of Daddy's finest articles," Luna explained, stirring her mashed potatoes.

Link propped the Quibbler up on a convenient loaf of bread, and read:

 _ **Siesta with the Sarmaree**_

 _Gilderoy Lockhart: Wizarding Hero OR Vain Burmese Ox?_

 _In recent years Mr. Lockhart has taken the Wizarding World by storm, his celebrity ensured by his heroic encounters with dark creatures chronicled in his many books, honorary membership in the Dark Force Defense League, his Order of Merlin, third class, and his status as a five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award. None of us have questioned his place as a wizard of note._

 _BUT IS HE?_

 _Mounting evidence has come to light that Gilderoy Lockhart is not as wizard at all, but is, in fact a Sarmaree._

 _The Sarmaree, as avid readers of the Quibbler know very well, is a Burmese magical ox, known for its incredible hair and equally incredible vanity. What is less well known is that the Sarmaree can take human form – and one has taken the form of Gilderoy Lockhart._

 _Lockhart is known for his love of the limelight, he thrives in the spotlight, preening like a pompous peacock – or a self-centered Sarmaree. Lockhart struggles to perform even the most basic charms while in public – an understandable difficulty for a magical creature like the Sarmaree. Lockhart's dearest wish, as chronicled in his autobiography_ Magical Me _, is too market his own line of magical hair care products – the lifelong obsession of a hair-obsessed Sarmaree. And what of Lockhart's supposed heroic exploits? These are the self-obsessed fabrications of a Sarmaree, known to be composed of flash without substance._

 _Gilderoy Lockhart, Sarmaree, is currently the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Our children are in the unique position to learn from a master of hair care, illusion and vanity, a situation that will surely behoove those who embrace this singular opportunity._

"That is a masterful piece of satire," Link grinned.

"Satire?" Luna blinked. "No, it's all quite serious."

"Oh," Link flicked his eyes to the article once again. Perhaps he had missed something?

"Daddy is quite right, of course," Luna continued breezily. "This is an invaluable opportunity to study the elusive Sarmaree in close quarters. And I intend to seize this day, and every day I have the opportunity to learn from Gilderoy Lockhart, the vain magical hairy ox."

For a moment, Link considered debating the issue with Luna. But her eyes were shining with such determination, an indomitable thirst to discover truths yet unknown that Link couldn't bear to stand against her. Instead, Link turned to his friend and asked, "How can I help?"

…

"Good morning, good morning," Lockhart breezed into the class, sporting a baby blue ensemble and boyish grin. "I'm certain you are all quite eager to see me."

This wasn't precisely true – Ginny was writing ardently in her diary, Colin was adjusting the settings on his camera, and a pair of Ravenclaw boys were constructing book towers out of Lockhart's published works. However, Link, Luna and a platoon of besotted young Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were hanging on his every word.

"For homework I had you read several chapters of _Year with the Yeti_ – one of my finer triumphs," he preened. "Are there any questions? Tokens of admiration?"

Luna raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Lovegood," Lockhart swept his half cape.

"I have a few questions, but they are about you person, such as it is, not your encounter with the Yeti," Luna said, pulling out a parchment and pen.

Lockhart's eyes gleamed. "Of course!" he flashed a grin.

"Thank you," Luna said seriously. "On a scale of 1-10, how fond would you say you are of your own hair?" she interviewed her professor.

Unconsciously, Lockhart adjusted his boyish waves. "My hair? Why, I would have to rate it a perfect ten, naturally," he flashed a grin. "I'm certain the lovely people at Witch Weekly would agree as well."

Luna noted this. "As a magical ox, what are your views on the morality of eating the flesh of animals?"

"I beg your pardon?" Lockhart stopped preening. "A magical _what_?"

"An ox, Professor," Luna continued writing her notes. "The morality of eating animals?"

"Well, of course I enjoy my beef wellington as much as any other wizard," Lockhart pronounced defensively. "And I do think - "

"Is your status as a Sarmaree linked to your total inability to cast anything but the simplest of spells?" Luna interviewed. Link began to giggle behind his hands.

Lockhart's eyes widened, and he began to fidget, spinning his wand in his hands. "Well, now _really_ Miss Lovegood," he reprimanded. "I am wizard! And a very good one, too, with daring exploits to his name! Just see my numerous published works!"

Luna noted this carefully on her parchment. Link guffawed.

…

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! That Quibbler article might be my favorite part of this whole story – personally, I can imagine Xenophilius Lovegood writing something like that about Lockhart in canon.**

 **Quick question – I have a cliffhanger planned in a few chapters (apologies in advance). Do you think the chapter following the cliffhanger should immediately resolve the tension? Or should there be an intermediary chapter to make it so that people reading later on still experience an effective cliffhanger? The content of the intermediary chapter would be included in either case. Any thoughts and suggestions are welcome!**


	13. Part 13 - Flying and Falling

**_Flying and Falling_**

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned belong to me.**

 **AN: I play somewhat fast and loose with chronology. Sorry about that.**

* * *

 ** _Flying_**

"Up!" the Gryffindors and Slytherins yelled at their broomsticks. Some brooms rolled uncooperatively, others meandered up to their owners, and a lucky few students had brooms that zoomed straight into their hands.

Of all the students, Ginny Weasley had the most success, which did not surprise Link overmuch. She had mentioned breaking into the family broom cupboard and stealing each of her brothers' brooms in turn during Potions class.

Link's own broom took a bit of convincing to fly up to his outstretched hand, but that was likely rooted in Link's apprehension about flying on something that didn't have wings.

"Mount your brooms," Madame Hooch ordered, and the class obeyed with varying levels of success. "Now, on the count of three, gently push off the ground. 1, 2, 3!" Madame Hooch said quickly, before anything could go wrong.

Link floated slowly into the air, surrounded by his classmates. It was a heady feeling, and Link gathered himself, processing the semi-familiar sensation of true, magical flight. It occurred to Link that he was comfortable in the air, but that he was more accustomed to falling with style without much opportunity for precise maneuvers.

The broomstick bucked, and Link's grip became white-knuckled. "Woah, there," Link said, as if he were soothing a horse.

Link experimented, and found that he could propel himself forward, turn, and slow to a stop in the air by shifting his weight. It was an unfamiliar system, and Link enjoyed the opportunity to find a new way to take to the air.

Across the field, Ginny was performing loop de loops, while Colin Creevey cheered her on.

"I wish I had my camera!" Link heard Colin lament, and Link sympathized.

* * *

 ** _Falling_**

The Sunday after the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch match, where Harry Potter managed to have the bones in his arm first broken then vanished, Link slept late.

This was not particularly odd, as Link was a very heavy sleeper.

What was odd though, was that Link's designated human alarm clock, Colin Creevey, had not woken up his friend.

(The first week of classes, Link was late to his first class every morning, no matter how many alarms he set. The first year boys held a council amongst themselves, and decided that each of them would have the job of waking up Link. This, over the course of a month, devolved into Colin waking up Link, because the other boys could hardly handle the responsibility of getting themselves out of bed. Link, in exchange, always offered to work on homework with Colin.)

As it was, Link did not open his eyes until the sun had almost reached its zenith. He hastily performed his morning ablutions, and headed to the Great Hall for lunch, lamenting that he had not had the time to explore that interesting passageway by the statue of Jean-Baptise Lully, the composer who died after stabbing himself in the foot with his staff while trying to keep his ensemble in time.

The Great Hall was not full of chattering voices as Link was accustomed to, but instead was hushed. Students were huddled, their heads close to each other. A sudden, fierce sense of dread coalesced in Link's stomach, and he swallowed, trying to clear the sudden tension.

Something was wrong.

Link walked up to the Ravenclaw table, looking for Luna. Since Halloween they had found several more of her missing items together, and Link enjoyed her company and appreciated her input: often Luna was able to find solutions to puzzles that Link could not perceive.

Luna was seated at the end of the table, a copy of the Quibbler balanced on a salad bowl.

"Hello, Luna," Link greeted, sitting across from his friend. "Sorry I missed you this morning." They had agreed to investigate the statue of Jean-Baptise Lully.

"You slept late," Luna pronounced sympathetically. "Because your friend Colin wasn't there to wake you up."

Link blinked. "Yeah, that's right," he peered at Luna. She looked straight back at him.

"Mr. Faron," Professor McGonagall interrupted. "Are you quite alright?" she asked, concern in her gaze.

"Ah, well," Link began, but Luna cut him off.

"He doesn't know that he shouldn't be yet," Luna told Professor McGonagall. "He overslept because Colin wasn't there to wake him up."

"Oh, of course," there was a hiccup in Professor McGonagall's voice. Link felt the ball of dread in his stomach harden, and no amount of swallowing would relieve the growing tension in his throat. "Mr. Faron, if you would follow me."

Link got up mechanically, and Luna left the Ravenclaw table behind, half a step behind him. The small group entered the hospital wing, and Link vaguely noticed that Harry Potter was in one of the hospital beds, but his eyes were glued to the corner, where Link spied a prone figure silhouetted behind the curtains.

Colin Creevey was Petrified. He was frozen in the act of taking a photo, his hands raised in front of his face. Colin was clothed in his nightclothes – the clothes Link had seen him in just last night, when they had joked about Quidditch goals looking like bubble blowing sticks, and made plans to find a bunch of soapy water to see if they could make a giant bubble.

Vaguely, Link noticed Luna put a steadying hand on his back.

"He snuck out last night," Professor McGonagall explained.

"To see Harry," Link finished for her. Link had thought status as Harry's number one fan was funny. Now he felt dull. If only I were there, Link began to think, but he stopped himself, _knowing_ that if he gave into that spiral of despair he would falter from the weight of it.

"Mr. Creevey will be restored in time," Professor McGonagall reassured Link and Luna. "Professor Sprout is working on developing the ingredients for the Mandrake Restorative Draught as we speak."

Link nodded, and allowed himself some small comfort at her words. Nevertheless, Link's blood stirred at the injustice of it, that Colin, who loved magic so deeply, would be torn from it so viciously.

"He looks surprised," Luna said. "But also…determined."

"He tried to take a picture of his attacker," McGonagall shared, a hint of pride in her voice.

Link placed a hand on Colin's shoulder, and was _reminded_ of another Colin from long ago, who held strength far beyond his stature, and who he also failed to save.

Link vowed to himself not to be caught sleeping while his friends suffered again.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Just a heads up, the rate of updates may slow to twice a week (MTh) soon primarily because Spider-Man Homecoming was just too gosh darn good and I now need to consume every piece of Spider-Man media available, apparently, which is cutting into my writing time.**


	14. Part 14 - A Glimpse of the Past

**A Glimpse of the Past**

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned belong to me.**

 **AN: I play somewhat fast and loose with chronology. Sorry about that.**

* * *

Link wasn't quite certain why Hermione had asked him to meet her in Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom of all places. Link had no issues about going into the girl's restroom, though he made certain that there were no occupants before he entered out of some small, feeble spark of politeness.

In any case, he hadn't explored Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom thoroughly before, so Link appreciated the opportunity to tread some new ground. The only time he had visited previously had been with Luna, as his sword led them to where her shoe was hidden behind a toilet on the far side of the restroom.

She had been quite pleased to recover it, and the pair of first years had embarked on several more adventures in the intervening days, looking for her other missing trinkets. But today Link set out alone, as Luna wished to complete some homework.

(Link also had some homework to do, but quests always took priority. Except Herbology homework, which he took as a personal challenge.)

Link entered the bathroom and looked around for Hermione. The entire place stank of rotted fish, and Link wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"Hermione?" he called out, looking around the stalls.

"Over here, Link!" Hermione called out distractedly. She was in the furthest stall – Link could see fumes spiraling in the air above. Link pushed open the door cautiously and found Hermione stirring a cauldron with one hand and consulting a book with the other. The cauldron was balanced somewhat precariously on top of the toilet. "I'll be just a minute – this only needs four more clockwise turns before I can leave it to stew for a few hours."

"May I ask why you are brewing a potion on top of a toilet?" Link asked.

Hermione studied him for a moment. "Do you want to have plausible deniability?" she asked.

Link considered that for a moment. "Eh," he shrugged. "I want to know more than I care about getting in trouble."

"Fine," Hermione said. "Harry, Ron, and I are brewing a Polyjuice Potion."

Link arched an eyebrow.

"Fine, I'm brewing a Polyjuice Potion, and Harry and Ron bring me ingredients and snacks," Hermione grinned.

"That sounds more like it," Link smiled. "So, what is so special about a Polyjuice Potion that you can't brew it somewhere less…interesting."

"It requires some unsavory ingredients and can be used for espionage," Hermione explained. "It lets you impersonate a somebody for an hour with each dose."

"Cool," said Link. That also explained why it was against the rules – all the coolest bits of magic seemed to be prohibited.

Hermione stopped stirring, and straightened up. "Right, well, enough of my well-meant misdemeanors," Hermione said. "Let's figure out just what exactly what you know." And with that Hermione ushered Link out of her way so she could exit the stall and go to the supply closet in the back of the bathroom.

"You have your list?" Hermione asked.

Link nodded, and pulled a long piece of parchment out of his pouch. Hermione, after the debacle on Halloween, had pulled Link aside and told him to write down everything he _knew_ how to do.

It had taken Link the better part of a week, as he wracked his brains for instances where his latent knowledge had come into play. Some parts of the list were clear cut enough – sailing, swordplay, etc. – while others were more difficult to put into simple terms:

 _The feeling of transforming into something else_

 _A need to destroy pots, barrels, and boxes_

 _Preference for jewel based currency_

 _Sympathy for portraits_

 _How seagulls stalk giant squids_

 _What it feels like to float_

And so on.

"Interesting," Hermione said, reading over Link's list. "Perhaps we will be able to develop more definitive terminology over time."

Link wasn't quite certain whether to interpret that as an insult or not, but he _knew_ that sometimes silence was the better part of valor.

Oh, shoot, Link thought. There goes another one. He grabbed the list out of Hermione's hands and added:

 _That it is sometimes better to shut up_

Hermione snatched the list back out of his hands, read the new entry, then tossed a nasty glare at Link.

" _Anyways_ , _"_ Hermione snapped, pulling open the supply closet. A diverse collection of books, instruments and weapons fell to the ground. "Let's see if any of these trigger something."

"How'd you get all of this?" Link asked, picking up a Roman helmet.

"I called in some favors," Hermione shrugged. "Link, are you certain you want to do this? I know I'm being a bit forward..."

"I need to know what I _know_ ," Link said with certainty. "What if I _knew_ something that would have helped Colin? Or could help somebody else in the future? I can't afford to keep muddling through all of this."

Hermione fixed him with a look, and nodded. "Fine, do you know anything about that helmet?"

Link shook his head, and tossed the helmet to the side.

As soon as the helmet was gone, a new object was placed in his hand – a small shield. Instinctively Link strapped it to his right arm and settled into a defensive stance. He was also struck with the sudden impulse to find a mountain and slide down it, but Link ignored that.

"I _know_ how to use a shied," Link reported. Hermione noted it, and pulled out the next object.

It was an interesting hour. It soon became clear that Link was versed in the use of almost every weapon imaginable – from clubs and axes to bows and boomerangs. The only weapon that stumped Link was the mace, until Hermione cast an Engorgement Charm on the implement, which Link reported felt much more familiar, much to Hermione's bewilderment.

The musical instruments were interesting as well. Link had some amount of knowledge of how to play the recorder and the flute, but he reported that he knew how to play different versions of those instruments more naturally (though he had no idea what that could look like). He was most comfortable with the pan flute.

Link had no idea how to play any reed or brass instrument, but had a surprising amount of insight into string instruments. He _knew_ a bit of guitar and violin, but could confidently play the lap harp.

Hermione retrieved a book from the pile – it was worn, and had no discernable title.

"This will be a good starting point," Hermione handed the book to Link. "This book has segments of text from every language in the world, magical and mundane. Some of them haven't ever been successfully translated, only copied. I want you to see how many of the languages you can read."

Link was amenable to this, and he set to work. Most of the text was unintelligible gibberish to him, and Link turned through several pages without feeling as if he could read a word. Eventually, though, Link came to a page where he could read every word easily.

"I can read this bit," he pointed to the passage. "It's a prayer to the three creator goddesses: Din, Nayru, and Farore."

Hermione grabbed the book from his hands and checked the index. "That was Old Hylian Syllabary," she said, a note of wonder in her voice. "Link, that language hasn't been in use in millennia – longer even!"

Link shrugged, and took the book back. He kept reading, and found that he was fluent in other variations of the Hylian language: the New Hylian Syllabary, Logographic Hylian, which were both syllabic writing systems, and the Hylian Alphabet, which was structured more similarly to English.

Hermione, with each new language translated, gasped in excitement.

There was a page full of symbols that Link recognized as Sky Writing, but wasn't able to translate.

At the end of the book were the languages that had been identified, but had no translation. To Hermione's glee, Link was able to read one of these languages, which had two samples.

Hermione identified the language as Ancient Hylian, a script that was so old that its origin could not be reliably traced.

"So, what do they say, Link?" Hermione pressed.

Link translated the first excerpt hastily. "This one is a recipe for pumpkin soup," Link said. "Famous soup," he added.

"And the second?" Hermione asked, quivering with excitement.

Link read through the passage once, blinked, then read the passage again. He couldn't believe it. He handed the book of languages over to Hermione, then pulled his knees up and sat on the floor, not caring that it was the floor of bathroom that was consistently flooded by a temperamental ghost.

"Link?" Hermione asked. "Are you okay?" She squatted next to the first year.

"No, I'm fine," Link said, and he exhaled through his nose. "Just processing. I'll read it for you."

Hermione handed the book of languages back over to Link, and he translated the final passage:

" _Tomorrow's the big day! The Wing Ceremony! Finally, Link can take a big step toward becoming a knight. I can't wait to see him promoted to full knighthood, but I'm a little worried he might have some trouble winning the race. Lately, Link hasn't been taking his flight trai-" *_

"The passage ends there," Link said. "It's a diary entry."

"You said Link," Hermione peered at the first year. "Are you saying that one of those symbols translates to Link?"

He nodded.

"And, and how do you know that this is a diary entry?" Hermione asked.

"I think I've read it before," Link said cryptically. "Or, rather, I _know_. Somehow. I probably wasn't supposed to – sticking my nose where it didn't belong."

Hermione was looking at Link with wide eyes. "So wait, what you're saying is that you were there, in Ancient Hyrule, when this was written."

"Maybe?" Link shrugged. "I don't know. It wasn't Hyrule yet, though."

"Well, then what was it?" Hermione asked.

"Well, this has been really interesting," Link got up, slightly wobbly. "But I think I need to go have an existential crisis. Cheers."

And he fled, sprinting to the lake, to his skiff, where he could feel the gentle rocking of the water. It was only there that Link allowed himself to say her name – Zelda – the woman that he _knew_ that he loved, and who he also understood was long dead.

Link mourned Zelda, with only the giant squid to bear witness.

* * *

 ***Text taken from The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword**

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing! I am still a little torn about some of the narrative choices made in this chapter, so please feel free to share your perspective. This chapter was partially brought to you by Zeldapedia, which has a lovely list of every language in the LoZ, and all of the instruments Link knows how to play.**


	15. Part 15 - Opaque

**_Opaque_**

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned belong to me.**

 **AN: I play somewhat fast and loose with chronology. Sorry about that.**

* * *

 **Bonus Drabble That Needed to Happen:**

"Myrtle just won't stop _moaning_ ," Ron complained to Harry during dinner. Link was shamelessly eavesdropping.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. Ron stuffed a meat pie into his face. "It's really quite awful."

"If somebody could just figure out what's upsetting her," Ron chugged some pumpkin juice, "Then we could actually make our potion in peace!"

"Are you saying we should do something?" Harry asked, uncertain.

"No way," Ron frowned. "She chose to haunt a _toilet."_

Link, unobtrusively nibbling a cookie, brightened up at that. He _knew_ about ghosts haunting toilets. That was familiar territory. With a grin - a new adventure! - Link popped over to the Ravenclaw table where Luna was reading the Quibbler. The magazine was held at a diagonal. Link assumed Luna was working on one of the Runic puzzles.

"Hey, Luna," Link bounced a little. "Do you want to mollify Moaning Myrtle with me?"

"Is she in the U-Bend contemplating death again?" Luna asked.

Link shrugged.

"Sounds fun," Luna grinned.

...

"Myrtle? Hello! Myrtle!" Link called out.

"Go away," a whiny voice burbled from a toilet at the end of the row.

"I'd rather not, actually," Link said good naturedly.

"This is likely the best entertainment available in the castle this evening," Luna agreed.

Link entered the stall and crouched by the toilet. He was attempting to appear casual and friendly.

"We're here to help, Myrtle," Link consoled the toilet. "Is there anything we could get you? Anything you need?"

A single, glowing hand rose out of the water.

"I - I need..."

Oh, Link _knew_ this one!

"Paper!" he yelled triumphantly. Luna looked at him askance.

Myrtle shot out of the toilet in a rage.

"I do _not need paper you jerk!_ " Myrtle yelled in Link's face. The temperature dropped. "Just because I haunt a toilet doesn't mean I need toilet paper!"

"It, it could have been any kind of paper," Link stammered.

"Oh, any kind of paper," Myrtle mocked. "So, because I'm a ghost I don't require the good kind of paper, is that it!"

"No, no I simply..." Link attempted to defend himself.

Luna laughed, a full belly laugh. "Any... kind... of paper," she wheezed. "Oh, that's brilliant. That's _funny_."

* * *

 **A Return to Plot:**

"Luna, I heard a rumor while I was dining with the Slytherin's last night," Link said.

The intrepid duo were investigating the 7th Floor, looking for the Room of Hidden Things. (This followed several failed forays into the deeper dungeons of Hogwarts, looking for the Chamber of Secrets.) Unfortunately, the room itself was very well hidden. They had already walked past the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls ballet at least seven times this afternoon alone. Barnabas and the trolls made as little progress and Link and Luna.

"You mean when you were shamelessly eavesdropping while stealing their pudding?" Luna prodded airily.

"Exactly," Link agreed. "Well, I heard that Marcus heard from Millicent who was talking over the incident with Draco that Harry can talk to snakes."

"Harry is a Parselmouth?" Luna's silvery eyes widened. "Why, then he's probably a part of the Ancient Snok Society!"

"Hm?" Link questioned. This was likely another area of the magical world he hadn't learned of yet.

"The Ancient Snok Society is based in Sweden," Luna explained. "A collection of warrior snake women who commune with their slithery familiars. They rarely give birth to boys, but when they do they are sent away, as men have no place in Ancient Snok culture."

"So Harry is one of the boys the Snoks sent away?" Link confirmed.

"It could be," Luna skipped a little.

"We should visit the Snoks," Link suggested. He imagined it would be a fun adventure.

"But they only allow women entrance to their domain, Link," Luna reminded him.

Link waved away her objection. "I'd just need to find the right outfit," he said breezily. He _knew_ it would work.

…

"Ingrates!" Madame Murray the haiku-loving portrait shouted. "You are only supposed to go up! Up I say!"

"But:

 _We ran out of time_

 _Too many stairs to climb down_

 _We need to eat lunch_ "

Link recited the poem cheekily, while Luna adjusted her robe.

"While an improvement on your earlier attempts, that haiku is, nevertheless, an atrocity," Madame Murray spat, as much as a painting is capable of spitting. "An assault on my sensibilities."

"Please excuse my friend," Luna attempted to mollify the portrait. "He's incorrigible, and a Gryffindor. You can't expect much in the way of refinement from them."

"Hey!" Link protested, but without any heat.

"True enough," the portrait smirked. "Very well, I will excuse your misconduct just this once, young Mr. Faron."

"Thank you!" Link and Luna chorused, and they made their way to the stairs.

"Told you it would be fun," Link muttered to Luna, not wanting the portraits to eavesdrop.

The duo was just rounding the corner to the stairs when a head of long red hair popped into view – Ginny Weasley.

"Hey Ginny!" Link greeted his fellow Gryffindor. He hadn't talked to her since Potions the previous week, but the word amongst the older Weasley boys was that she took Colin's Petrification hard.

Ginny stopped for a moment, and looked for a long moment at Link, and his floppy green cap. "Oh, hello Link," Ginny said lightly. She peered at Luna. "And you must be…"

"Luna. Luna Lovegood," she said with an uncharacteristically hard voice. "We played together for years."

"Oh, of course," Ginny laughed off her faux pas charmingly. "How could I forget?"

"Far too easily," Luna mumbled. Ginny pretended not to hear her.

Link felt distinctly uncomfortable. He was beginning to regret initiating this conversation.

"So, Link, what do you think of this whole business with the Chamber of Secrets?" Ginny inquired, deliberately ignoring Luna.

"Oh, well, Luna and I have been looking for it," Link admitted. This was somewhat unusual, as most people had taken to traveling in large groups and staying in crowded spaces, but Link would have lost his marbles with a week if he were trapped in the common room. "In the dungeons and such, but no luck there."

"I imagine that would be the case," Ginny said slyly.

"But we think the monster is a giant sea snake that's been traveling through the plumbing," Link shared eagerly. "Luna came up with the plumbing bit," he added.

Ginny's eyes grew cold and hard. "Is that so?"

Luna stared at Ginny, uneasy.

"Yeah!" Link grinned. "Though we don't know who the heir is. We're pretty sure it's not Harry, though. There's a chance he might be a lost scion of the Ancient Snok Society of Sweden, apparently."

"Well, if you wanted to find out more about the heir, you could investigate the trophy room," Ginny suggested. "There could be some record there. I could help you look."

"Sure!" Link agreed. He almost always accepted a quest. "We could all go."

"Actually, I'll pass on this outing, Link," Luna said softly. "I have a small nargle infestation to detangle."

"Oh, that sounds serious," Link said sympathetically. "Could you use any help?"

"No, no, I'll be quite all right," Luna reassured him. "Now, if you would pardon me," Luna walked away, and up the stairs.

Link was left with the feeling that something had gone very wrong.

"Hmph," Ginny voiced. "Well, would you meet me up in the trophy room in an hour? I have something to prepare first."

"Okay," Link said. "I'll just go and grab some lunch, then. See you soon!"

Ginny sauntered away, towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts section of the second floor.

Link placed a hand on his wand, seeking some small reassurance.

…

Link didn't understand the appeal of the trophy room. Sure, he enjoyed a reward for a heroic deed well done as much as the next person, but he preferred that his earnings hold some level of utility. A decorative plaque held little intrinsic purpose, though perhaps, in a pinch, you could whack a lesser enemy in the head with it.

"Hello, Mr. Faron," Nearly Headless Nick said, interrupting Link's musings on the possible benefits of putting a sticking charm on a plaque and using it as a shield.

"Good afternoon, Sir Nick," Link replied, happy to see the ghost. "What brings you here today?"

"Ah well, it's a bit of a tradition of mine," Nick admitted a tad sheepishly. "You see, there's this fellow on the Headless Hunt, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore. We went to Hogwarts together and were, rivals, you see. Got into duels every other week."

Link settled in. Nearly Headless Nick was in one of his more verbose moods.

"Drove our teachers up the wall, why I remember Professor Cammish-Altringham nearly eviscerated the both of us after we set the lake on fire. Really, how were we supposed to know that Greek Fire could be successfully replicated with the combination of a few particularly belligerent hexes?"

Sir Nick looked at Link expectantly.

"Oh, yes, terrible, that," Link said insincerely.

"Precisely," Nearly Headless Nick carried on. "Well, in any case, our rivalry did not cool after our school days. No, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore continued to bait me, denying me entrance to his lands and his clubs. I mean, really, the actual nerve of him! I was simply trying to pass through to the upper reaches of the Albanian forest and he denied me passage on the grounds that I wasn't sufficiently educated! I mean, really now, we both went to the same school, and simply because I elected not to take Alchemy lessons beyond what was required does not make me any less of wizard."

"Yeah," Link agreed while Nick paused for breath.

"The worst of it, though, is that _dying_ wasn't enough for me to shake that arrogant collection of donkey viscera off my tail. You see, Podmore learned that I had been killed, but that my head hadn't been _quite_ taken off. So he arranged that when he died his was detached entirely, and has held that over me for centuries, denying me entrance to the Headless Hunt."

"Harsh," Link sympathized.

"So, what else does Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore but show up to _my_ Deathday Party with his Headless Hunt and steal all the glory for himself, eternally rubbing it into my face that my head is still attached to my body by a measly two inches of sinew!"

Nearly Headless Nick swung his head sideways, demonstrating the extremely tenuous connection between his head and his body.

"How dare he," Link commiserated.

"So, in retaliation, every fortnight I visit the trophy room and shout insults at his "Premier Golden Snidget Catcher" award. Would you like to hear that again?"

"Yeah," Link said thoughtless.

"Excellent! "You see, there's this fellow on the Headless Hunt, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore. We went to Hogwarts together and were, rivals, you see. Got into duels every other week."

Wait – was Nearly Headless Nick repeating himself? "NO, no, Sir Nick, I really don't need to hear it again – "

" …why I remember Professor Cammish-Altringham nearly eviscerated…" Nearly Headless Nick carried on obliviously.

It was boring enough the first time around, Link complained inwardly. He had things to do, places to be… and he was worried about Luna and her nargle infestation. When was Ginny going to show up again?

"…pass through to the upper reaches of the Albanian forest…"

Link looked more closely at the trophies around him. Ginny had suggested there might be a clue here? Link chose to ignore the Quidditch, Club, and Head Boy and Girl awards and focused on the section with the Awards for Special Services to the School.

"…I elected not to take Alchemy lessons…"

There many such trophies. Some included small summaries of the deed accomplished, such as the slaying of a cockatrice or rescuing the Headmasters favorite quill from a recalcitrant Niffler. Others had no caption, such as the award for Tom Riddle.

"…arrogant collection of donkey viscera…"

Link straightened up, rolling his shoulders. There didn't seem to be any leads here. Link stilled – there was a new, familiar sound. The, light, slow scrape of scale against stone.

"…Sir Properly Decap – oh." Nearly Headless Nick suddenly stopped speaking.

Link turned to look up at Sir Nick. The ghost was still pearly white – but he was no longer translucent. Nearly Headless Nick was opaque. The Not-Properly-Decapitated ghost's eyes were frozen, transfixed on a point behind Link's head.

For the briefest of moments, Link considered running. He could _feel_ the weight of the monster's gaze, boring into the back of his skull. But, no matter how frightened he was, Link knew he couldn't live with himself if he left the creature free to attack his friends.

Wand in hand, Link turned to face the beast eye to eye.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **If you feel so inclined, try to pick out some of the LoZ callbacks in this chapter. Also, sorry about the cliffhanger; I am, quite simply, the worst.**


	16. Part 16 - Nargles

_**Coping with Nargles**_

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned are mine.**

* * *

Luna fled from Link and Ginny, all of her old fears and insecurities rising up once again. Her throat felt tight. _What if she lost Link's friendship, too?_

Luna went to the library. If she were going to be teased, her tormentors would at least be subtler there, she reasoned. For the past several weeks Luna had endured their jibes with a grin, sure in the knowledge that, even if every other student in the school thought she was odd, that at least Link was there for her.

But now, she thought as she miserably slid into a chair in her favorite section of the library (magizoology), now she wasn't quite so certain. He seemed so eager to talk to Ginny. Luna could understand why – Ginny could make a wonderful friend.

Luna's thoughts strayed bitterly to September 1st, on the Hogwarts Express, when she tracked Ginny Weasley down to apologize for shutting her out when Luna's mother died, and to ask if, maybe, they could try to be friends again now. Ginny, writing in her diary, didn't look her in the eye.

"No thank you, Luna," Ginny said between strokes of her quill. "I would rather make some new friends. You're just too odd," she read.

In the three months since, Luna had avoided Ginny like the plague, ignoring the red-head and the constant scratch of her quill in her diary to the best of her ability. Talking to Ginny today was like talking to a stranger.

It was almost as if her old friend couldn't even recognize her, which cut Luna deeply. Ginny could pretend that their childhood as playmates didn't matter to her, but Luna valued those times deeply, and to see them forgotten or reviled made Luna feel sick to her stomach.

And now? Now Ginny was stealing Link. Luna just knew it (she ignored the nargles bobbing around her head. Luna didn't want to be clear-minded at the moment, thank-you-very-much).

Link was going to go on an adventure with Ginny, and find out who the Heir of Slytherin is, and then they would go find the lost city of Atlantis and commune with the sage of the triangle people, while Luna stayed in her tower, alone.

And really, Luna couldn't blame Link. Ginny was smart, and she could fly a broomstick and cast hexes that could make Sixth Years cry. She would be a great friend to go on an adventure with, and this trip to the trophy room was just the beginning of the end.

 _Link invited you_ , a small, un-nargle-fied voice piped up. And Luna allowed that, but really now, her chance was gone, as far out of her reach as the Crumple Horned Snorkack. And Link was just so nice to Ginny already…

 _Link's nice to everybody_ , the voice reminded her. _That's just how he is._ And, well, Luna could admit that as well. Some of the nargles flitted away. Link talked to – or was talked at – by every student, staff member, ghost, portrait, and creature at Hogwarts. Just the other day he had dragged Luna along on a mission to clear up a Hufflepuff dispute involving a gnome, three bottles of misappropriated firewhiskey, and the military leader of the Hufflepuff cats, General Princess Floofer.

 _And he's desperate to help Colin_ , the voice continued warmly. _There was no way he would ever walk away from the chance to find the heir._ Luna agreed with the voice, and the remaining nargles left the young witch to think clearly.

Well, if Link is trying to find the heir, perhaps I can identify the beast, Luna decided. She walked up to the bookshelf and retrieved _Scaly Scourges of the Deep_ , which was disconcertingly bound in bumpy reptile skin. Noting that the text was dedicated to the author's missing left pinky toe, Luna set to work.

 _..._

 _POSSIBLE DENIZENS OF THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS:_

 _Alicante (too small?)_

 _Amphiptere (vestigial wings might not fit in pipe)_

 _Amphisbaene (related to Medusa in myth – Petrification connection!)_

 _Bashe (too big?)_

 _Basilisk (gaze kills, victims would be dead?)_

 _Eglé the Queen of Serpents (also a spruce tree?)_

 _Grootslang (related to elephants?)_

 _Ilomba (sea snake!)_

 _Jaculus (javelin snake?)_

 _Lou Carcohl (also a mollusk?)_

Loch Ness Monster (should be in lake?)

 _Scitalis (shiny markings on back)_

 _Sea serpent (needs ocean?)_

 _Seps (person-dissolving venom)_

 _Unhcegila (causes insanity, responsible for disappearances)_

Luna looked over her research. Of all of the options, she believed that the Amphisbaene was the most likely to be the mystery creature. The amphisbaena has a head on either end of its serpentine body, whose dual mouths leak poison and eyes that gleam like lightning. Additionally, the amphisbaena is rumored to be borne from a drop of blood from Medusa, who was known for her ability to petrify her victims with the horror of her appearance. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch, Luna reasoned, for her offspring to share that ability in some capacity.

Pleased with her work, Luna returned _Scaly Scourges of the Deep_ to its shelf and headed out of the library. At the doorway, she passed by a pair of older Gryffindor girls.

"…are you positive it was Link?" One of the girls said, her hands over her mouth.

"Yes," the other replied. "They were attacked. Angelina, Nearly Headless Nick was _p_ _etrified_. What kind of magic has the power to harm the dead?"

"I don't know," Angelina shook her head.

Luna ran.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! This chapter was brought to you by Wikipedia.**

 **Sorry that the cliffhanger has not yet been resolved - that will come on Friday July 21 - but I wanted to preserve at least a hint of the tension for future readers. Thank you for your patience!**


	17. Part 17 - A View to a Kill

_**A View to a Kill**_

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned are mine.**

* * *

 _For the briefest of moments, Link considered running. He could feel the weight of the monster's gaze, boring into the back of his skull. But, no matter how frightened he was, Link knew he couldn't live with himself if he left the creature free to attack his friends._

 _Wand in hand, Link turned to face the beast eye to eye._

Link's wand had a different idea. Before Link could meet the creature's gaze, his wand moved, twisting and dancing of its own volition. A visible streak of magic shot out of the wand, striking Link in the face and knocking him to the ground.

As if a switch had been flipped, his vision stopped. Link could perceive no light, only a dull black-grey darkness.

"Wha- what," Link said, shocked. He blinked – there was no change. He could see nothing. The wand, once the sword of the Lost Woods, had magicked its master sightless.

"Why?" Link accused the wand. "Why can't I..."

The wand gave no reply.

Link attempted to rise, but his limbs were leaden. Panicked, Link listened for any of the creature's movements, but heard nothing. This did not reassure Link, however. He was completely vulnerable, here, and the monster was loose. It could hurt somebody else – another victim petrified like Colin and Nearly Headless Nick.

Then – there it was; the now familiar scrape of scale against stone. But, it sounded as if it were heading away from the Trophy Room. Link was surprised that the creature did not move to finish the job – he was completely defenseless. The creature, though, may have assumed that Link's collapse was simply the result of his petrification, and that its job was done.

Valiantly, Link struggled against his leaden limbs – what spell had his wand cast on him to leave him so thoroughly indisposed – to come to his feet. He needed to pursue the creature, warn others way. Link refused to see another student hurt like Colin.

Suddenly, Harry Potter careened into the Trophy Room, following the sound of the murderous voice in the walls, but there was no sign of the creature.

"I, I heard…" Harry tried to speak, gasping for breath.

"The creature attacked," Link explained. He couldn't quite figure out where Link was standing. "It got Nick, and then my wand did something funny and now I can't see…"

"Where did it go?" Harry asked, frantic.

"Away," Link replied vaguely. "I didn't have the best view."

Then, feeling shaky from the spell damage, Link sat down and passed out.

…

There were four people and one ghost in the Hospital Wing, Luna noted idly. Though, perhaps the count would be more appropriately labeled as five people – one departed, one Petrified, one injured, one healing, and one counting.

Luna was thoroughly convinced that Madame Pomfrey was a miracle worker. When Luna initially burst into the Hospital Wing, the mediwitch had already cast a stasis charm on Link, preventing any further damage from being wrought. She then plied Luna with a calming draught and set her in the bed beside Link's, which Luna quite appreciated on the grounds that her friend looked still and small when he normally bursting with energy and purpose, dashing about the castle a figure larger than life.

Luna also tentatively revised her opinion of Professor Snape after he stalked in, producing a fresh bottle of Spell-Be-Gone from his robes and handing it to Madame Pomfrey, muttering "Bloody Gryffindors" on his way out. Really, Luna agreed with the man. Being friends with a Gryffindor was a stressful business.

Once Madame Pomfrey applied the Spell-Be-Gone – both as an eyedrop and down Link's throat – she wrapped gauze around Link's face and transfigured his clothing into linen pajamas. Seeing Link without his trademark hat felt wrong, somehow, to Luna.

Link stirred, groaning lightly. Luna rushed to his side, calling for Madame Pomfrey.

"Whmm," Link groaned incoherently. He moved his hand toward his face, but Luna grabbed it, not wanting her friend to injure himself.

"Mr. Faron!" Madame Pomfrey exclaimed. "You shouldn't have woken up until morning," she scolded.

"Wh- why can't …"

"You can't see because you cast a spell on your eyes, but Madame Pomfrey is fixing them up," Luna explained.

"Ocular spell-damage is difficult to manage," Madame Pomfrey said briskly, performing an examination spell on the Gryffindor. "But you should be able to see within a couple days with proper treatment."

"Oh," Link breathed out. He grasped Luna's hand tightly in his own. "Right then."

"Mr. Faron, did you get a look at your attacker?" Madame Pomfrey.

"I-it wasn't a person," Link said, his voice weak. "I never saw it. But, but I heard a creature; a massive one, with scales."

"So it is the monster and not the man," Luna noted.

"I need to report this to Albus," Madame Pomfrey stood up quickly. "Miss Lovegood, if you would keep Mr. Faron from doing anything Gryffindorish…"

"Of course," Luna smiled at the mediwitch. Madame Pomfrey swept out of the Hospital Wing to her office. "Link, I'm sorry, I wasn't there, and…"

He squeezed her hand. "There's nothing to be sorry for," Link reassured his friend. "I was just visiting the trophy room. You couldn't have known that Slytherin's monster would show up."

"But - "

"Nope, not your fault," Link argued stubbornly. "And besides, I'll be fine in a couple days, right? I _know_ I've had worse injuries."

"That doesn't make it okay," Luna frowned at Link. He grinned Gryffindorishly back at her. "Fine."

Dimly, they could hear Madame Pomfrey yelling about child endangerment in her office.

"So, do you want to hear about what I think Slytherin's monster is?" Luna said, uncomfortable with the shouting.

"Please," Link said.

"I think it is an Amphisbaene," Luna shared. "A creature descended from the Gorgon Medusa, who could petrify any who gazed on her. It's a giant poisonous snake with two heads, one for each end of the body."

"Cool," Link grinned, and Luna lightly swatted him.

"Maybe," Luna allowed. She loved wondrous creatures. "But I don't see how an Amphisbaene could have cast a spell on your eyes.."

Link looked peeved. "It didn't," he bit his lip. "My wand did. It was like it had a mind of its own. Cast a spell on me – proper wand movements and everything. Which, double checking here, that's not normal, right?"

"Yes," Luna agreed. "Though it probably saved you from being petrified."

"Huh," Link looked at his wand, clenched tightly in his left hand. "I suppose you're right. That's a relief."

"Hm," Luna sounded. She drooped a bit from the fatigue and stress, and drank in Link's presence. His hair was a ruffled mess, there were bandages wound around his head, and the top of his ear was wavy, instead of rounded.

"Hey Link, why is the top of your ear so wavy?" Luna asked.

Link let go of her hand, and traced the curvature of his ear. "Oh, I forgot about that," he chuckled lightly. "It's a tradition in my village to have the tip of the ear trimmed off when you're young. It's just cartilage up there, so everything grows back fine, though it doesn't look quite as smooth as it maybe should."

"Oh, like the Qilin!" Luna exclaimed excited. At Link's look of bemusement, she explained further. "The Quilin is a magical deer that primarily lives in China. It scrapes off the tips of its antlers every spring so new shoots can grow."

"Okay," Link went with the flow. "Yeah, sort of like that."

Madame Pomfrey bustled back into the hospital wing, and look of distinct fury on her face. "Stubborn old coot," she muttered, amongst other expletive ridden statements. When the mediwitch arrived at Link's hospital bed, she adopted a more professional posture. "Thank you for watching over Link, Miss Lovegood, but I'm afraid he needs his rest now," she shooed Luna. When the Ravenclaw didn't scurry fast enough, Madame Pomfrey yelled, "Out!"

Luna scampered, and Madame Pomfrey plied Link with a sleeping draught, forcing the Gryffindor to rest.

Luna chose to utilize the shortcut behind the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy on the Fourth Floor, which saved time going up to the Seventh Floor, but put her closer to the Gryffindor Tower than the Ravenclaw Tower.

Luna regretted this decision, however, as she crossed paths with the person she wished least to see. Luna could almost sense the nargles waiting to pounce and muddle her thoughts.

"Luna, what are you doing here?" Ginny asked, her voice falsely friendly. "I thought you'd be… busy."

"I could ask the same of you," Luna glared at her one-time friend. "You said you were going to meet him in the trophy room – but he met an Amphisbaene instead!"

"Really? Another one of your made-up creatures, Loony?" Ginny said slyly.

Luna quivered, coping with a confusing onslaught of emotions. "You should have been there for him!" Luna yelled, not sounding like her usual airy self. "Link was alone, except for Nearly Headless Nick, and now he's hurt in the hospital wing!"

"He wasn't Petrified?" a hint of amused surprise colored Ginny's voice. "How fascinating."

"Do you even care?" Luna questioned. How had she ever been friends with someone so cold and manipulative?

"Go to your tower, Loony," Ginny said coolly. "Maybe you'll find one of your whirligigs up there."

"I don't even know you," Luna turned away from the redhead. Her throat felt tight, but from rage or sorrow Luna could not tell.

"True enough," Ginny sneered at the empty air, and the first year descended the stairs. Her work today was unfinished.

…

"You look fabulous," Gilderoy Lockhart told his reflection, placing one last pin in his hair. Looking this dashing takes quite a bit of work, after all!

Lockhart turned the faucet of his sink to rinse his hands clean of his soon-to-be-patented hair potion, and was dismayed to find that no water shot out of the faucet. Really now, Lockhart complained to himself, adjusting his bathrobe as best he could with his slimy hands, this castle was a wreck! For the past month and a half the plumbing in his personal bathroom was an unreliable mess.

There was nothing for it, Gilderoy sighed internally, but to wash his hands in that blubbering ghost's sink. His hair potion was slightly corrosive, and if he didn't get his hands clean soon they would start to peel and come out in purple spots.

Clad in robe, slippers, and curlers Gilderoy emerged from his quarters, glad that there would be no witnesses for his undignified jaunt at such an early hour. (One must make an effort to look their best, and he didn't win Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award for nothing!)

"Oh, _really_ now," Gilderoy complained. His slippers were all wet – there was a solid inch of water covering the flagstone floor. "That ghost is a menace. Perhaps my next book should be called _Griping with Ghosts_!" He laughed at his own joke.

But even Gilderoy Lockhart's boundless egotism flagged at the new text he found on the wall, dripping blood red, under the initial warning against enemies of the heir:

 _Their bones shall lie in the chamber forever_

"Minerva?" Lockhart squeaked, and her ran to the far more qualified Transfiguration professor's quarters.

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! This chapter went under a rather dramatic rewrite (my first version was way too violent, it didn't fit the tone of the story) so if there is anything that sticks out to you as odd, let me know. I might have missed something from the first version. (And I'm sorry Link didn't get more time to fight the Basilisk, but don't worry, he'll get another shot soon [...the author said ominously].)**

 **Housekeeping note: I rewrote a couple things in the first chapter, which makes two (small) changes to the story. 1) Link doesn't have a sister, she barely existed in a single sentence in the first place, and 2) Link's ears are as described in this chapter, not pointed. He isn't visibly Hylian, nor is anybody in Lurelin village.**


	18. Part 18 - The Heir

_**The Heir**_

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned are mine.**

* * *

"Ennervate."

Link came to with a snap, breathing harshly. He opened his eyes, but would have done just as well leave them shut – he could see nothing. Controlling his frenzied breathing, Link oriented himself as best he could with his eyes out of commission for the coming days.

He was lying prone on uneven, damp stones. The air smelt musty and thick. Link was cold, a chill settled deep into his bones; his clothes were thin linens, and gauze wrapped around his head shielded his damaged eyes. He mourned the loss of his hat, but was thankful that his wand remained clenched in his left hand.

This was not the Hospital Wing. It felt more like an ancient water temple than anything else, Link derived from his _knowledge_ , and the thought gave him no comfort. Water temples were the worst.

With a grunt, Link rose to his feet, settling into a battle stance, wand held at the ready. He was thankful that Madame Pomfrey's work mitigating his wand's mystery spell damage had at least restored his physical strength, even if he still could not see.

"Good Morning, Link Faron," a cold voice greeted.

Link adjusted his stance so that he faced the direction he best approximated the voice found its origin.

"Oh, very good," the voice said patronizingly. "You're only a few degrees off."

"Flipendo," Link cast, and charged at his opponent.

His kidnapper deflected the spell lazily, and cast his own charm in return.

"Petrificus Totalus!" he drawled, and Link's limbs snapped to attention, leaving the Gryffindor to fall frozen to the ground. "You see, that's what should have happened _yesterday_. You should be a lump of living rock right now – or dead, preferably," the man continued, sounding annoyed. "But no, you had to go and escape."

He was circling Link, like a snake coiling around its prey.

"You should have just kept you head down, Link," the man said, a shrug in his voice. "But you couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? You thought this was all some grand adventure, gallivanting around the castle as if you own the place. As if you have the _right_ ," he chuckled coldly. "You are but filth beneath my feet, mudblood."

Link seethed, but was powerless to move.

"It's your own fault, Link," the man sneered. "You got too close, knew too much – I couldn't leave you to spout off about pipes and snakes to the likes of Albus Dumbledore. Loony, of course, could do no harm – she's _insane_ ," he laughed cruelly. "Nobody would believe her."

Link tried to tell him off - his friend was _not_ mad! – but his mouth was frozen shut.

"But you, Link?" He scowled. "They may have listened to you. And I couldn't have that, now could I? So I set you up. I sent you to the Trophy Room, where the Basilisk should have killed you. Really, you should have known better than to share such sensitive information with little Ginny Weasley."

"Oh? Didn't you know?" the man feigned surprise. "She's right over there, dying. Her spirit, her devotion – it fuels me. Soon I will take all she has to give. And the world will fear Slytherin's power.

"You should be honored, Link Faron," the man said. "Today you have the privilege of dying at the hands of the Heir of Slytherin."

He hissed in a language Link could not comprehend, and, unseen by Link, the mouth of Salazar Slytherin opened, and the creature slithered out, foot by evil foot.

"The creature you and your Loony sidekick have been seeking is the Basilisk, the King of Serpents. A single glance at the Basilisk kills instantly, and its fangs carry the most potent of poisons." The Heir of Slytherin released Link from his paralysis with a twisted grin. "Run," he ordered cruelly. "There is little I enjoy more than watching a Gryffindor die in shame."

…

Luna rose with the sun. She did not sleep well, indecipherable dreams plaguing her slumber. The young Ravenclaw rushed through her morning ablutions and ran down the stairs to the Hospital Wing.

In the stillness of the castle, every moment felt heavy, and Luna was desperate to set eyes on her friend and reassure herself that the reckless Gryffindor remained hale and whole.

Her hopes were dashed, though, when she entered the Hospital Wing and found Link's cot empty. Dazed, Luna backed into the hall.

"All students are to remain in their common rooms," McGonagall's voice echoed through the corridors. "Two students have been taken into the Chamber of Secrets. Any student found outside of their common room will be penalized harshly."

 _Link was in the Chamber of Secrets_ , Luna realized with horror. None of the professors could even guess at the chamber's location. Link was blind, facing a monster of enormous power and its keeper, without any hope of aid.

Luna's breaths came short and fast – she was panicking, distraught. Nargles swarmed. She wanted nothing more than to rush to Link's aid, but how? _Nobody_ knew where the Chamber of Secrets was. It had been hidden for millennia. Merlin himself never tracked it down.

 _You're not Merlin_ , a thought rang clearly. _All the pieces are here, you simply need to perceive them._

"Okay, okay," Luna said aloud. She sat down in an alcove, and curled her legs close, placing her head between her knees. "Okay Luna, think."

 _What do I know about the Chamber?_ It was built by Salazar Slytherin during the construction of Hogwarts. None save the Heir of Slytherin can enter. Within the chamber is a monster, likely an Amphisbaene. The original message announcing the opening was written in red paint, on the second floor by the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

 _What do I know of the Amphisbaene?_ It attacked on Halloween, Petrifying Mrs. Noriss. It traveled in the pipes in the walls, and Harry Potter, a parseltongue child of the Snoks, could hear it threatening to kill while others heard nothing. It left water on the floor by Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom. It petrified Mrs. Norris, the cat.

It attacked after the Quidditch match, Petrifying Colin Creevey through the lens of his camera, then again yesterday, petrifying Nearly Headless Nick and leaving Link injured.

Luna did not know whether the Amphisbaene was responsible for Link's disappearance this morning, but she suspected that this abduction was the work of the Heir.

 _What do I know of the Heir?_ The Heir successfully entered the Chamber and commands the Amphisbaene. Perhaps this meant they could speak Parseltongue, perhaps not.

"Those poor children," the Fat Friar exclaimed with a sob. He and a companion dressed in armor were floating down the hall. "This is just awful."

The warrior solemnly agreed.

"They're both so young," The Fat Friar said, sounding defeated. "Not only young Mr. Faron – he helped me find a cat the other week, such a nice lad – but also the little Weasley girl."

"The Gryffindors are in tatters, with their youngest stolen away," the warrior agreed mournfully.

"I'm afraid this may be the end of Hogwarts," The Fat Friar cried, and the pair drifted out of earshot.

Luna, in her thinking space, assimilated this new information, adding new pieces to the puzzle. Ginny Weasley, who had been acting out of character during her time at Hogwarts, disappeared at the same time Link did.

Ginny Weasley, the old friend who forgot who Luna was. Ginny Weasley, the girl who told Link to go to the Trophy Room, but never came herself. Ginny Weasley, who just last night walked away, saying she still had work to do. Ginny Weasley, lurking in the second floor corridor, near the threat on the wall and the first attack.

 _Could her childhood friend be the Heir of Slytherin?_

Luna ran to Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom.

…

"Myrtle, please, I really need to talk to you!" Luna yelled into the toilet.

The toilet wailed in response. Across the room, Harry and Hermione muttered complaints to each other as they worked on their contraband potion. Apparently they chose to disregard McGonagall's order to stay in the Common Rooms.

"I know you're a bit mad about the whole paper thing - " the toilet's wails increased in volume, "- but I really need your help."

Myrtle gave no intelligible reply. Luna straightened up. This called for a change of tactics.

Luna marched over to the smelliest of all the stalls, where Hermione was stirring a noxious potion.

"Harry Potter, I need you to flirt with the toilet," Luna said plainly.

The Boy Who Lived looked completely flabbergasted. He attempted to form words, but failed.

"The ghost inside that toilet is the entity in this castle most likely to know where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is," Luna argued. "And she has a crush on you. So go, flirt."

"You think she does?" Harry asked.

"Have a crush on you?" Hermione interjected. "Definitely."

"That's not what I was asking," Harry struggled to articulate himself.

"I hope she knows how to find the Chamber of Secrets. I suspect its here, actually," Luna looked around the bathroom. "And since she haunts the place, she may have seen the Heir or the Amphisbaene coming and going."

Harry and Hermione blinked at the mention of the Amphisbaene, and Hermione looked as if she wished to pursue the subject, but Harry nudged her. "I'll do it," Harry announced. "I'll flirt with Moaning Myrtle," he turned a little pink. "Thank goodness Ron's not here."

…

"Hey, good lookin,'" Harry waggled his eyebrows roguishly at the haunted toilet. "What brings a pretty ghost like you to a place like this?"

"Harry, that's not how flirting works," Hermione chided him.

"Are you going to be my wingman or not?" Harry retorted, _sotto voce_. "I would love to hear more about this wonderful bathroom from you."

A pearly, translucent figure drifted up from the toilet bowl.

"I know what you're doing," Myrtle tittered. "But I like it. Do go on."

"You know more about this room than anybody," Harry buttered her up. "I was hoping you could tell us about this glorious haunt, and whether there has been anybody suspicious in here this year."

"Other than you lot this year has been quite tame," Myrtle floated closer to Harry.

Luna's face fell. Was she wrong about this being the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets?

"But… the first time the Chamber of Secrets opened… I died in this very room," Myrtle shared dramatically, soaking up the attention.

"How did you die?" Harry asked.

Myrtle blushed, as if she had never been asked such a flattering question. "Oh, it was _dreadful_ ," she said with relish. Myrtle shared her tale, beginning with her self-imprisonment in the toilet stall after being bullied, then of the boy who entered a _girls_ bathroom, and ending with her death after looking into a pair of big, glowing eyes by the sinks.

The trio, hearing this, rushed out of the stall to the ornate set of sinks, looking for some indication of a secret entrance, a hidden lever or an ornamental snake.

"Here!" Hermione shouted. "This faucet – it's shaped like a snake." She tried turning it – no water came out, but there was also no other movement.

"Harry, try saying something to the snake," Luna suggested. She was gripped with a sudden sense of urgency – they were running out of time.

Harry walked up to the snake-shaped faucet. He said "open" once in English, shook his head, then tried again. This time, he hissed the command, and the entire hexagon of sinks shifted, revealing a pipe that looked to go on forever.

"We did it," Luna allowed herself a small smile.

"We found the Chamber of Secrets," Hermione said with a tone of disbelief.

Luna looked down the hole. It was quite an intimidating pipe, and it looked very dirty, but there was nothing for it. Link was in immediate, mortal danger. She _knew_ it. There was no time to spare.

"Thanks for the help," Luna smiled at Myrtle, Harry and Hermione. "But I've got to go rescue my friends now."

And with that, Luna stepped down into the Chamber of Secrets as casually as if she were walking down the stairs.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! A special shoutout to the guest reviewers - I'm sorry I can't thank you individually, but I really, really do appreciate your thoughts and kind words. Next chapter (posted Wednesday July 26th) is the boss fight!**


	19. Part 19 - A Point of Weakness

_**A Point of Weakness**_

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned are mine.**

 **AN: There is some canon-level violence in this chapter.**

* * *

Luna wondered how, exactly, there came to be so many bones where she landed in the Chamber of Secrets. She was already walking around in an ancient conspiracy, though, so adding an extra dash of murder wouldn't be too much of a stretch, she supposed.

They did add to the creepy atmosphere, Luna allowed, and she was just considering how a few well-placed cobwebs would really bring the whole place to the next level, when Harry Potter zoomed out of the pipe.

"Hello Harry Potter," Luna greeted the Gryffindor. He looked disturbed by the décor. "Thank you for following me into the Chamber of Secrets."

"Er, yeah, sure," Harry said eloquently. "Er, Hermione is going to get us some help."

"Oh, that's good," Luna smiled. "I was hoping we'd be deus ex machina'd out of here, but that sounds much more sensible."

"What?" Harry said, bewildered.

"Nothing," Luna smiled. The air of dottiness around her was palpable. "This place could really use some cobwebs."

"…Let's just go," Harry suggested. "Who knows, I might get to hiss at another door."

They ventured deeper into the Chamber amicably. Luna informed Harry of his status as a lost son of the Ancient Snok Society, which, all things considered, Harry preferred to the current Hogwarts majority view that he was an evil, deranged dark wizard on a rampage.

They came across the shed skin of a giant snake, but, to Luna's surprise, the creature only had a head on one end of its body, not two, as the Amphisbaene does.

"But if its not an Amphisbaene, and it doesn't have vestigial wings," she muttered aloud. Harry looked at her askance. "And – oh, of course," Luna laughed to herself.

"It's a Basilisk," Luna informed Harry. "That's what the creature is. It can kill with a single glance – that's how it killed Myrtle all those years ago."

"But then why aren't Mrs. Norris and Colin, you know…"

"Reflections!" Luna stuck a finger in the air. "Or they looked looked through something. Didn't get a full blast of it."

"Oh," Harry processed this. "Then – Luna. We need to be really careful. If we look up at the wrong moment, and the Basilisk is there… we could die."

"I would die," Luna corrected him. "You've got glasses. You would probably just be petrified," she patted his arm reassuringly.

"Cheery," Harry commented, and they continued their trek. Soon enough they came to a door that wouldn't budge no matter what unlocking charms they threw at it. Harry hissed at the door, and stone snake came to life, undoing the locking mechanisms.

"I think this is where Link is," Luna commented. "I don't suppose you would stay behind? I'd rather not lead Harry Potter to his death."

"No way," Harry said fiercely. "I may not be as close as you are to Link and Ginny, but I could never live with myself if I left them here. Or let you go alone."

Luna looked right at Harry, her eyes almost luminescent. "You know what Harry Potter?" Luna smiled. "I think we're friends now. That's nice."

And with that, they entered the Chamber of Secrets proper, their eyes downcast to avoid the death stare of the Basilisk.

* * *

Link, unseeing, turned to face the Basilisk. He held his wand tight in his left hand.

"So, you know how when I found you in the forest you were a sword?" he asked the wand conversationally. "Could you, maybe, turn back into a sword? I don't think _flipendo_ is going to work on the Basilisk."

The wand grew warm, but Link could give his weapon no further thought as the Basilisk surged towards him, a ton of magical flesh and poisonous teeth. At the last moment, as Link felt the air change at its approach, Link dodged to the side, avoiding death by the thinnest of margins.

Link felt as if the world slowed to a crawl around him, and seizing the opportunity, he flipped to the beast's side and slashed, the wood of his wand transfigured into deadly steel. The Basilisks scales, however, were strong, and even Link's magical sword hardly scratched them.

Link flipped backward. Dismayed, but unsurprised. He was not facing a lesser enemy – this was a boss, a denizen of the darkest places, a keeper of the greatest magic. The Basilisk would not be felled without the use of a stouter strategy.

The tail of the Basilisk swept Link off his feet, knocking him face first to the ground.

 _Easier said than done_ , Link groused to himself, surging back to his feet before his massive enemy could capitalize on his weakness, _when I can't even see the bloody snake._

"Link!" Luna called out from the front of the Chamber. The Gryffindor almost stumbled at the shock – what was Luna doing here? How did she find the Chamber of Secrets?

Link scurried away from the direction of Luna's shout. He couldn't let the Basilisk catch sight of her – she could be petrified or worse. As if sensing his thoughts, Link's sword sent a small, directional pulse, guiding Link to the right. He followed the sensation, running into a large pipeline.

For better or worse, the Basilisk pursued him.

* * *

"Where's Link going?" Luna asked, frustrated that she couldn't chance looking up for fear of meeting the Basilisk's eyes.

"I think he's leading it away," Harry observed carefully. "Luna, this is our chance to confront the Heir. And maybe once we've stopped them I'll be able to tell the Basilisk to stand down."

"Not if Link slays it first," Luna allowed herself to grin. For a reason she could not explain to herself, she was confident that Link could triumph in this battle.

They raced forward, eyes on the ground. Soon they reached the back of the chamber, where a massive statue dominated the back wall. At the statue's feet, her red hair a stark contrast to the dark atmosphere, was Ginny Weasley. By her side was her diary.

Luna's heart skipped a beat at the sight, and she rushed forward recklessly. "Ginny, Ginny, I'm so sorry," Luna babbled. "I should've known something was wrong. I should've trusted you more."

"Ginny, wake up," Harry shook the pale girl's shoulder.

"She won't wake," said a soft voice.

Harry spun around to confront the figure. Luna left him to it – she knew the Heir, because who else could it be, here in the Chamber of Secrets, was lying. Ginny could be woken; Luna _knew_ a thing or two about rousing people from their slumber.

"Rictumsempra," Luna recited, casting the tickling charm on her friend. As a child, she had seen her father awaken her mother in such a way, so that the morning could start with laughter.

"And you, Miss Loony Lovegood," a cold voice interjected. Luna, annoyed turned around and reluctantly focused her attention on the man.

He looked like Harry, if he were a ghoulish Slytherin Sixth Year with dead eyes, so really, not like Harry at all, all things considered. The teen looked as if he were not completely there – the edges were wavy, and though he wasn't translucent, he wasn't exactly opaque either.

"Did you need something?" Luna blinked up at him. "If you wouldn't mind too much, could you wait a moment? I'm afraid my friend here has overslept."

"You are absolutely insane," he cackled cruelly.

"No, she's not!" Harry protested loyally.

Well, that was nice of Harry, Luna thought, and she smiled at the Gryffindor. Really, you make the nicest friends in haunted bathrooms.

"And you, Harry Potter, are such a disappointment," the Heir drawled. He twirled a wand in his fingers. "I was so excited to meet you, too – the great Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, defeater of the Dark Lord."

Luna kicked Ginny. It would be nice to have some backup, here. Luna looked more closely at the wand in the Heir's hand. "Harry, is that your wand?" Luna asked, disregarding the Heir's ominous statement.

"Er, yeah," Harry admitted, a bit sheepishly.

"How did you already lose your wand, Harry?" Luna pressed, a bit exasperated. Honestly, Gryffindors.

"I, well…"

"A total disappointment," the Heir repeated with a glare. "How is it that somebody as _incompetent_ as you manage to escape the Dark Lord, not once, but twice!"

"What does it matter to you, anyway?" Harry demanded. He didn't feel like admitting to the semi-translucent teen that it was a combination of his mother's love, a lucky streak a mile wide, and Hermione's nagging.

"Are you a part of the Voldie Official Fan Club?" Luna asked, curious. She had never met an actual member before. "What was the slogan again – he's a Voldie but a Goodie?"

The Heir of Slytherin directed a look of pure serpentine loathing at Luna, a look that promised slow strangulation accompanied by an acid bath.

"The Dark Lord is my past, my present, and my future," the Heir pronounced self-importantly. He lifted Harry's wand, and spelled a name in the air:

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

"Who's that?" Luna whispered to Harry. She grasped Ginny's hand in her own, as it seemed her kicking wasn't waking her up.

"I think it might be him," Harry whispered back.

"Your name's Tom?" Luna directed the question to the Heir.

He scowled at her. "At one time, perhaps." He waved the wand, and the letters rearranged themselves in the air.

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

Luna considered this. "I know History of Magic can be a bit dull, but there has to be a better outlet than anagramming."

Harry didn't have such a blasé view. "You're Voldemort… but young," Harry tried to process the Heir's presence. "But you're just a spirit, a shade of yourself…"

"I am a memory," Riddle revealed. "An echo, given life through the misguided efforts of little Miss Weasley," he spat her name as if it were a curse.

Luna squeezed Ginny's hand tighter in her own. It was becoming warm.

"But… how?" Harry asked. His nightmares were becoming real before him.

"The diary, of course," Riddle smiled. "The Weasley Girl poured her heart and soul into me. It was a simple matter to have her drive away family and friends. I became her truest friend, her confidant," he bared his teeth, "She could carry me in her bag after all. And I wasn't a Loon."

"She was so excited to see you, did you know?" Riddle taunted. Luna noted that, unlike before, she could make out the pattern of the bricks on the wall through his head. "It was nauseating. The brat of a girl kept going on about how excited she was to meet her friend who knew about all of these amazing creatures on the train." Faintly, Ginny squeezed Luna's hand in return, and Luna took heart.

"Tearing apart your little friendship," Riddle grinned insincerely. "Was as simple as ripping a soggy piece of parchment."

Hand grasped in Luna's, Ginny rose to her feet and faced her old confidant. "No. No it wasn't."

Then the Basilisk careened through the wall.

* * *

 _7 Minutes Earlier_

Link sprinted into the tunnel, his feet splashing through the cold, slimy water. At that moment, Link would have traded a thousand rupees for a decent pair of boots. Seeing would be a nice asset as well, Link added to the list. And some chainmail, his _hat_ , a shield, a bow and arrow (it would be so nice to simply shoot the overgrown worm pursuing him in the eye), even a _slingshot_ would be useful.

Wishing you were better prepared won't keep you alive _now_ , Link chided himself, being _smart_ is what will save you and your friends. So _think_.

Enemies like this, Link _recalled_ , often have a weak point, a chink in their armor. Sometimes it was the tail, a glowing spot on the back, a tendency to inhale explosives – but most often, it was the eyes that were a point of weakness.

It would be poetic, Link grinned wolfishly, if the Basilisk's greatest strength proved its ultimate undoing.

The Basilisk surged forward, and, had Link not flipped to the side he would have been skewered upon the beast's teeth. Link fell badly on his side, and he had to roll in order to dodge the Basilisk's next attack. Regaining his footing, Link struck, praying to the Goddess that his sword would strike the beast's eye.

His sword collided with scales, finding no purchase. Link drew away from the attack, bracing his feet against the Basilisk's side and flipping backward, landing with only a small waver.

Even though Link knew, academically, where he should aim, with his eyes still clouded from the swords mystery spell, he couldn't see where to aim. Though, Link reflected jumping over a sweep from the Basilisk's tail, he wouldn't want to see the Basilisk's eyes in either case, as that would lead to instant death.

"Sorry about yelling at you before," Link apologized to his sword. "Thanks for saving my life." He felt a pulse of warmth from the sword, and Link smiled. Then the side of Basilisk crashed into the Gryffindor, launching him forward several feet into the side of the tunnel.

Stunned, Link stumbled backward, but did not allow himself to fall. If he fell now, that would mean death for himself and his friends.

Link heard the Basilisk cruise toward him, the water rippling away from the massive beast. Link needed to end this fight, and soon. His body was aching, and the pain in his chest warned him some ribs were likely cracked during his most recent collision.

"I can't see the eyes," Link said. "But I know how to find missing things." Link raised the Sword of the Lost Woods to eye level. "Douse for the eyes of the Basilisk," he ordered. The sword emitted pulsing warmth, followed by a wave of vibrations directed at the Basilisk.

With a guttural yell Link ran straight at the Basilisk; then, moments before colliding with the beast's gaping maw, Link flipped over the Basilisk's head, landing on its nose. Link concentrated on his sword, following the directional vibrations. Reassured of his heading, Link braced his feet against the bucking Basilisk and stabbed his sword straight into its deadly eye.

The Basilisk emitted an unholy sound, a mix of fury and pain. It tried to unseat Link, but his grip was sure – there was still another eye to render useless, and Link refused to allow this beast to hurt another one of his friends.

Furious, the Basilisk threw itself against the tunnel wall, breaking through into the central area of the Chamber of Secrets. Link using his sword as a handle, grimacing at the pain of the falling debris.

…

Across the Chamber, Harry Potter looked up, concerned. Through the lens of his glasses he saw Link, flat atop the Basilisk's maw. The last thing Harry saw was the remaining glowing eye before he, like Nearly-Headless Nick, Mrs. Norris, and Colin Creevey before him, was petrified.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading a reviewing! A couple lines of text are pretty darn similar to the text in Chamber of Secrets (mostly Riddle's lines), my apologies for that. Almost all of the writing is my own, otherwise.**


	20. Part 20 - Din's Flame

_**Din's Flame**_

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned are mine.**

 **AN: There is some canon-appropriate violence in this chapter.**

* * *

The Heir smirked at Harry's petrified form. "I suppose there wasn't anything special about you after all, Harry Potter," he sneered. Tom Riddle appeared more solid, and Ginny stumbled, struck with despair. The Heir looked over at the Basilisk, annoyed. "He was supposed to be dead by now," he grumbled, and hissed an order at the King of Serpents.

"Link isn't very good at dying," Luna said sagely. "It's a fault."

Riddle ignored Luna. "And what are you doing here?" he directed the question to Ginny, looking at her with total loathing.

"I – I," Ginny quivered.

"You're the one that brought her down here, Anagram Boy," Luna retorted on her friend's behalf.

"You already poured your heart and soul into me, your 'Dearest Tom,'" the memory mocked the girl. "And you're going to take it back now? After everything I've done for you – listening to your childish woes, advising you, helping you prune your social ties?"

He strode forward, looking more solid with each step. "You owe me a debt, Miss Weasley," he hissed. "And you're so poor, I'm afraid its one you will have to pay with your life."

Luna squeezed Ginny's hand in her own, lending her friend what strength she could. But Luna could act no further – she sensed this was a battle Ginny had to win under her own strength. Luna trusted Ginny, though, and knew she could triumph.

With a breath, Ginny looked up and straight into the Heir's merciless eyes. "I owe you nothing, Tom Riddle," Ginny defied the man. "You are nothing but a shell of a person. Your words hold no power over me."

The Heir lunged forward as if to strike Ginny, but before he could make contact with the girl his form lost all definition, fading from view. Harry's wand clattered to the ground.

…

Link shook his head violently, and several pieces of rubble fell out of his hair. The Basilisk performed a similar action with less success – Link would not budge. He still had another eye to stab, after all.

Grimacing, Link set his feet as firmly as he could, and wrenched his sword out of the Basilisk's eye. The Basilisk sounded its fury, lifting its head straight up in the air. Without the anchor of his sword Link faltered, tumbling down the Basilisk's back.

Before Link could fall to the ground, Link drove his sword in between two scales with a desperate thrust. Regaining his equilibrium, Link set his stance, withdrew the blade and sprinted up the length of the Basilisk, relying on the vibration of the sword to guide his steps. With a final burst of energy Link crested the Basilisk's head with a flip, then set the sword so it was aimed straight down, with all of his weight and strength propelling it through the Basilisk's remaining eye and into its brain, killing the beast.

In its death throes the Basilisk shook Link loose, tossing him to the ground, sword miraculously still in hand. The Basilisk then froze and burst into a gaseous darkness, which dissipated, leaving only its poisonous fangs behind.

…

"He's still here," Ginny whispered. "He's, he's trying…"

"He holds no power of you," Luna reminded Ginny. "Trust yourself." Luna looked carefully across the chamber. "It seems like Link has already taken care of the Basilisk – bloody Gryffindor – so the only left on our Chamber of Secrets to do list is to destroy the Heir at the source."

"The diary!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Exactly," Luna smiled, and she padded out a few step, tore off a piece of her robe, and carefully picked up one of the discarded Basilisk fangs, using the robe as a barrier. It wouldn't do to get poisoned, after all, and Luna was a sufficiently well versed amateur magizoologist to know better than to mess around with Basilisk poison. "This should do the trick," Luna waved the Basilisk fang jauntily.

"A fang?" Ginny asked, toeing the diary towards Luna.

"It seemed poetic," Luna shrugged. She chose not to explain that it _felt_ like the proper course of action, because there wasn't sufficient time for an existential conversation.

"Okay," Ginny agreed. The pair lent on either side of the diary. "Could we, could we do it together?" the red head asked, apprehensively.

"Stab the evil diary that tried to tear apart our friendship and ruin your life?" Luna asked, clarifying. Ginny nodded. "It would be my genuine pleasure."

They both grasped the basilisk fang.

"I'm sorry for pushing you away," Ginny said.

"I'm sorry for letting you," Luna responded.

They drove the fang into the diary. Ink erupted from the puncture like blood from a mortal wound, boiling and bubbling, and a distant furious scream echoed through the Chamber.

Breathless, Luna raised her hand for a high five. Ginny reciprocated.

Link splashed over, looking exceedingly ruffled. "Hello! Did you see that? That snake was huge! And I stabbed it in the eye! Twice!"

"Harry saw it," Luna informed her friend. "Nice to see you didn't get eaten."

Link looked concerned, "Did he get petrified?" he asked the pair.

"I'm afraid so," Luna frowned.

"Lucky he wears glasses," Ginny agreed.

Luna surveyed Link. "Are you not wearing shoes?"

Link wiggled his toes experimentally. "I suppose I'm not," he frowned. "Perks of being abducted from the Hospital Wing. Hello, Ginny. Have fun purging demons?"

"I suppose it was rather cathartic," Ginny allowed.

"Good job," Link praised the pair. "I really didn't like that guy, what with the kidnapping and the setting a giant snake after me."

With a groan of shifting stone, the statue began to descend into the ground, as the wall behind it rippled open.

Link visibly sagged. "I swear, if there's another Basilisk back there," he muttered.

"There shouldn't be," Luna informed Link. "Magizoologists agree that Basilisks tend to be highly territorial creatures. It would be highly unlikely for there to be more than one in a lair."

"That's comforting," Ginny rose to her feet. For a girl who, ten minutes ago, looked like death warmed over, she was looking quite well. "So, are we going to check it out, or what?"

"Well of course we're going to look," Luna got to her feet. "We've got a two-thirds Gryffindor majority."

"Actually, I'm going to stumble around and hope I'm going in the right direction," Link corrected Luna.

"Oh, come on," Ginny grabbed Link by the arm, and the trio entered the Chamber of Secret's secret antechamber.

The chamber was dark, and decorated with diagrams and symbols that, if Link were able to look, he would have recognized. At the back of the chamber was a dais, within which was a floating pair of metal wings.

Link's sword began to hum.

"What's back there?" Link asked.

"There's another statue," Ginny tried to explain. "It's like a set of wings, but they're spiky…"

"It's the bottom half of the Hylian crest," Luna said succinctly.

"Right, then I think I _know_ what to do," Link raised his sword skyward. The tip of the blade glowed with ethereal energy, which then descended to the hilt, causing the entire weapon gleam.

Link swung his sword in a wide arc, and the energy curved away, striking the crest, which began to spin and glow in turn. Suddenly, a wild crimson flame burst above the winged crest, its heat foreboding.

As Luna and Ginny took a step back, Link stepped forward, presenting the blade of the Sword of the Lost Woods. The crimson flame rushed at the sword, pummeling it with heat and magic, the metal like molten lava in his hand.

Link was not unaffected by the flames – the sacred light burning through the magical veil clouding his sight. Link tore away the bandages shrouding his face to see his sword suffused in crimson light. He lifted the sword skyward once more, and the crimson light burst into white, leaving the sword transformed into a longer, sharper version of itself.

Link lowered the sword, and gave a few experimental swings.

"I'd make fun of you for your egotism," Ginny commented. "But that was actually pretty cool."

"I wonder if that was the flame of Agni," Luna muttered.

"Maybe we can investigate later, Luna," Link groaned. "I think I cracked a couple ribs. Did you have a plan to get out of here?" he asked the Ravenclaw.

"No," she brightly admitted. "I was just happy to find the place. I had to negotiate with Myrtle," she shared with Ginny as an aside. The red head giggled. "I assumed we would be deus ex machina'd out."

"What?" Link and Ginny questioned in unison.

Suddenly, they were all suffused in golden light.

"Ah! There it is."

And the Chamber was empty once more.

…

Dumbledore's office, which was already quite full (a whole cadre of Weasleys being the primary culprit), was suddenly overflowing with people.

It was pandemonium for several moments, and then there was a great deal of hugging and crying, and some cries of dismay at the petrified Harry, who had been desu ex machina'd along, even though he was petrified.

The explanations were a tedious affair, but were thankfully cut short by the entrance of a livid Madame Pomfrey, who demanded that every single person in the room under the age of seventeen go to the hospital wing, which Link thought was just as well, since every inch of his body ached terribly.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	21. Part 21 - The Aftermath

_**The Aftermath**_

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned are mine.**

* * *

Link dreamed he was running on the back of the world snake, whose coils undulated in and out of realities. Link looked to the side and saw his friends, stretched out in a Renaissance tableau, frozen in time. Or perhaps they were not frozen, but he was too fast, but Link could not afford to slow, because he had to slay the world snake before –

"I believe you have slept long enough, Mr. Faron," the light voice of an old man cut through the fog. "And, since I'm afraid young Mr. Creevey is still indisposed, I will have serve as your alarm clock."

Link opened his eyes, blinking until his vision cleared. He was in the hospital wing, all soft white light and crisp linens. And, to his side was the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, who was pulling a small bag out of flamboyant cloak, which was embroidered with glowing stars and nebulas.

"Would you care for a lemon gumdrop?" Dumbledore asked, holding the bag aloft.

Link, of course, never turned down free acquisitions, so he took the lemon gumdrop, but instead of eating it put it carefully on the bedside table for safe keeping. It could be an essential item in a quest one day, after all.

(Some people would call this hoarding. Link considered it common sense.)

"Thank you, Professor," Link said. He performed a quick check on himself – all his limbs were attached, his ribs were no longer nearly so sore, and he could _see_ , which was really quite fortunate. Satisfied, Link levered himself so he was sitting upright in the hospital bed.

Dumbledore pulled out his wand and, with a flick, an additional pillow appeared behind Link's head. Link looked at the wand curiously – he got the sense that the wand held great weight, and power practically dripped from it.

"Mr. Faron, I would like to offer my deepest apologies," Dumbledore pronounced gravely. "Your attack and abduction should not have been allowed to occur. Nor should your rescue have fallen to Miss Lovegood and Mr. Potter."

Link wanted to say that it was okay, that everything turned out for the best, but he could not bring himself to say the words. Because everything was not alright – if any other student in the school had been taken into the Chamber, they would be dead right now. If Luna were not brilliant enough to intuit the location of the Chamber of Secrets, Link doubted he could have succeeded.

So, instead of saying, it is all fine now, the danger has passed, Link fixed Albus Dumbledore with a warrior's gaze. "This cannot be allowed to happen again. We were a hairs-breadth from death in that Chamber – even before," Link's hand balled into a fist. "Professor, there was a venomous snake who could kill with a glance slithering through the corridors of this school for a full month. The moment Mrs. Norris was found petrified and a threat targeting a vulnerable population of the school painted on the wall Hogwarts should have been evacuated.

"And I understand why it would be tough to leave," Link huffed. "I love Hogwarts – there are so many secrets to be explored, and the ghosts and portraits are so interesting. But it's the people here who truly make this school special, and by remaining here you gambled with their lives. Would it really have been so hard to magic up alternative accommodations?"

Dumbledore looked withered and old. The usual spark in his eye was missing, and the purple of his robe looked dull. "No, Mr. Faron," Dumbledore admitted. "That would have been the wiser course of action. My only defense is that I succumbed to an old man's follies."

"It is easy to see what should have been done in hindsight, Professor," Link said. "I was caught up in the adventure of it all – I thought it was exciting! But then Colin was petrified, and it wasn't a game anymore."

"Mr. Faron, I understand that this must be painful for you, but I must know what transpired in that Chamber," Dumbledore asked the young Gryffindor. "I'm afraid Miss Lovegood's explanation was a bit spotty."

Link smiled at that, and told of his abduction from this very room into the Chamber of Secrets, of the malicious Heir of Slytherin, and of his confrontation with the Basilisk.

"Yes, how _did_ you slay the beast?" Dumbledore asked, a bit of the light returning to his eyes. "That is no small feat."

Link shrugged. "There may have been a magic sword involved."

"The sword of Gryffindor?" Dumbledore asked.

"Er, sure, let's go with that," Link hedged. He didn't want to share with Dumbledore his wand's night-life as a deadly blade.

Link concluded his tale, omitting the secondary alcove with the crimson flame.

"Fascinating," Dumbledore smiled. "I am not certain what kind of magic could have transported all of you from the Chamber so neatly. Particularly not within Hogwart's wards."

Link had no explanation for the Headmaster – it was simply one of those things that happened, a little convenience that it was best not to examine too closely.

Dumbledore stood. "Mr. Faron, I commend you for your heroism and bravery," the Headmaster said. "And, though it is a couple weeks early, I believe you deserve some peace and rest. Tomorrow I will send you, Miss Lovegood, and Miss Weasley home for an early holiday." He popped a lemon drop and departed.

…

Luna was reading the Quibbler in her hospital bed, and Link can't help but smile at the picture she made, with her magazine propped on her knees.

"Hey Luna," Link said, plodding over to her carefully.

She looked up at him, her silvery eyes bright. "Hello Link," she greeted her friend. "Dumbledore isn't the best alarm clock."

"No," Link looked over to the corner where Colin lay, petrified. "No he isn't." There were two other beds curtained off by Colin - Link assumed that was where they put Harry and Nearly Headless Nick.

Link looked back to Luna. Her eyes were focused above Link's shoulder on empty air, as if she were watching an interesting television program only she could see.

"Luna?" Link interrupted her internal reverie. "Thank you for coming to save me; figuring out where the Chamber was, and facing the Heir… that was incredible. So, yeah. Thanks." Link rubbed the back of his head, feeling a little uncomfortable.

"You're welcome," Luna beamed. "I'm going to give you a hug now, Link." Then she glomped him, and there was quite a bit of laughter, until Madame Pomfrey bustled in and chided them for making so much noise (even though they were the only patients, seeing as Ginny was whisked straight home to the Burrow and the remaining patients were petrified, so waking them up would have been beneficial, all things considered.)

…

Professor McGonagall side-along apparated Link back home to Lurelin village, a somewhat harrowing process, not because of the apparition (Link _knows_ how to handle teleportation sickness), but because Professor McGonagall looks torn between plying Link with biscuits, putting him in detention for the remainder of his Hogwarts career, and strangling him in a hug.

The Transfiguration Professor doesn't completely relax until she sees the young Gryffindor tucked into his Grandmother's embrace. Professor McGonagall, when she turns to leave, is waylaid and has several extra-full bottles of Grandma's Soup deposited in her arms.

…

The first thing Link does, after hugging his Grandmother and eating lots of soup and greeting his neighbors, is kneel in front of the Goddess statue situated under an alcove by the sea.

He tells the Goddess of his adventures and about how wonderful magic is, and thanks her for keeping all of his friends from dying. Link feels the Goddess smile upon him, and she does not say your welcome, but instead: _it was the strength of you, and your friends, that won the day_.

The second thing Link does is get spectacularly lost in the Lost Woods, but soon enough he encounters the Koroks, who he thanks profusely for granting him the opportunity to retrieve the Sword of the Lost Woods, because it most definitely saved his life.

Then they all played tree tag, because Koroks haven't completely internalized the idea of death yet, and it really was a much better use of time to play with the spirits of the forest than discuss mortality with them.

…

Link is the last person to return to Hogwarts after the winter holiday, the end of result of a disaster of a day. It started late, with Link oversleeping, and his grandmother sleeping through her alarm. This made Link miss the bus up to London, so they reluctantly tried their luck with the village car, Ol' (Un)Reliable, who lived up to its name by refusing to start. Fed up, Link loaded his trunk onto a fishing skiff and sailed to the nearest port with an attached train station, which was easier said than done because he was constantly tailed by an ornery shark, something that Link _knew_ only happened to him. Eventually Link managed to tether his skiff to the pier and board a train to King's Cross, but by the time he arrived at Platform 9¾ the Hogwarts Express the train was long gone. In a stroke of good luck a wizard lingered at the station and sent an owl along to get someone to pick him up, but in a stroke of bad luck it was Professor Snape who did retrieve him. However much Link enjoyed Potions class, the Professor was the sort of person it was best not to inconvenience, and the man's mutterings about "idiot Gryffindors" and "at least there's no flying car" did little to bolster Link's spirits.

But all that was forgotten when Link woke up _on time_ in his four poster bed the next morning to see Colin Creevy's beaming face.

"You're here!" Link exclaimed, and he shot out of bed and gave Colin a hug. "But I thought it would take the rest of the year for the Mandrakes to mature enough to make the Restorative Draught?"

Colin grinned. "Well, after Harry was petrified, too – and isn't that incredible, Link, we were next to each other, petrified, for almost a month!" Colin bounced with excitement. "Anyway, there was apparently a bit of a hullabaloo about how the Boy-Who-Lived can't be lying around petrified, so the Ministry imported some of the Restorative Draught right quick, and we all made it home before Christmas!"

"That's great, Colin," Link smiled. He personally thought it was quite unfair that the magical government couldn't be bothered to procure the Mandrake Restorative Draught until after Harry was petrified, but Colin looked so excited Link couldn't bring himself to lower the boy's spirits. "And now I might even make it to class on time. Professor McGonagall was getting a bit annoyed about me being late to Transfiguration…"

…

At breakfast that morning, Link stays in one place, talking to Colin. Shyly Ginny takes her place across from them, and Luna drifts over with Quibbler in hand, and Link can't help but smile because this? – this feels _right_.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Next chapter will round off Year 1! If you have any "drabble-like" scenes that you would like to be included before we launch into Year 2, please leave a review or PM with your suggestion, and I'll see if it belongs in the chapter. BTW, the next update will be on THURSDAY, August 2nd. I'm participating in a choral conducting festival so I'm a little busy this week.**

 **Random Quote from Ernest Hemmingway that made me think of Link:**

" **I love sleep. My life has a tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?"**


	22. Part 22 - Year's End

**Year's End**

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned are mine.**

* * *

 _A Chorus of Reactions to the Chamber of Secrets Debacle:_

Oliver Wood: "So, Quidditch is still on, correct?"

Draco Malfoy: "Look at the great _Potter_ now, couldn't even slay a Basilisk correctly, had to get a couple _first years_ to do all of his dirty work while he went and got himself petrified. Why he's practically a mudblood!"

Cho Chang (and a score of eavesdropping Ravenclaws): "Luna, how did you figure out where the Chamber of Secrets is? The entire House spent the better part of November poring over every manuscript in the Library, looking for clues..."

Ernie MacMillan: "I would like to thank you, Link, Luna and Ginny, officially, for clearing our great school of the threat posed by the Heir of Slytherin and his fearsome basilisk. Many in our House feared for their lives, and it is heartening to see my friends free to walk the halls of Hogwarts once again."

Fred and George Weasley: "Word on the street - " "Is that you like secret passages - " "And since you both saved our sister - " "Fred and I thought - " "We could show you some of our favorites!"

Moaning Myrtle: "The only reason Harry didn't die is because of his glasses? Too bad. We could've shared a toilet..."

Hagrid: "It's a righ' shame, really, that the Basilis' had to go. Prolly jus' wan' ter live in the dark and quie', like, but tha' bloody heir had ter go an' stir things up. Aragog's a good deal happier, though, now tha' come ter think of it."Neville Longbottom: "You just stabbed it in the eye with a sword? Wow, I don't think I could ever doing anything like that..."

Neville Longbottom: "You just stabbed the Basilisk in the eye? Wow, I don't think I could ever do something like that..."

Marcus Flint: "I'm going to need to repeat another year to get a chance at the Quidditch Cup, aren't I?"

Cedric Diggory: "Here, take some more pudding. No, more, Link. You deserve it."

Anthony Goldstein: "Hey Luna? I'm having some trouble with this shrinking potion...maybe we could work together on it? I could use your help."

* * *

"I just can't take any more of it," Ron said, shaking his head. "If I have to sit through another one of that git's asinine lessons, I'm going to lose it!"

"Yeah," Harry agreed emphatically.

The trio were curled up in their favorite seats by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room, configuring their star charts for Astronomy.

"Oh, honestly, he's not that bad…" Hermione tried to defend the DADA professor.

"Hermione, we spent the entirety of class today discussing hair care tips for errant Hags," Harry pointed out. "We have learned nothing of substance from him this year."

"And that could put us behind for our OWLs in a few years," Ron added seriously. "Very important, those OWLs," he nodded officiously.

Hermione warred with herself, but academic achievement won over a pretty face every time. "…Fine. But how are we supposed to get a better DADA teacher?"

The trio bent down in thought as one.

"There's no way Lockhart has done half of the things he's said he's done," Harry said. "He can't handle a pixie, there's no way he faced a werewolf or a banshee."

Ron chuckled at the memory. "He barely held onto his wand for twenty seconds," he grinned, basking in the sweet, sweet schadenfreude.

"So, you're saying he's a fraud?" Hermione clarified, addressing Harry.

"Exactly," Harry nodded firmly. "The only thing we need to do is prove it."

Once more, the trio bent down as one to consider the problem.

"Say, Hermione," Ron looked over at the bushy-haired girl. "Do you still have that Polyjuice Potion?"

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I spent the better part of two months brewing that potion in a bathroom. Of _course_ I still have it."

The trio set to planning Lockhart's downfall in earnest.

…

Colin had his nose bent close to his Potions book, scanning the contents frantically. Though the majority of his teachers were quite understanding about his missing classwork, the hold out was Professor Snape, who had very emphatically (scarily) required he complete loads of make-up assignments.

Which, all things considered, wasn't all that bad, Colin thought. He was still learning magic, after all, even if it was very intimidating, complicated magic assigned by an intimidating, complicated man.

Nevertheless, Colin couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief when Ginny walked over to his table in the library. It was quite nice being friends with her now – Ginny was much kinder when she wasn't being manipulated by the Heir of Slytherin, Colin found.

"Potions homework?" Ginny asked, looking over at the alarming array of parchment, books, and sliced dandelion roots in front of Colin.

"Make-up work," Colin shrugged.

"Could I help?" Ginny asked earnestly, leaning forward. "Er, I mean, that is if you would like me to," she backtracked.

"That would be great!" Colin beamed. "Okay, so I think I'm having trouble with the concept of dandelions, because I thought the book was referring to, you know, the flower, but the diagram in the book is of a lion with a top hat…"

As Ginny explained to Colin the phenomena of poor taste in puns many wizards indulge in shamelessly, she couldn't help but smile a little. She was doing good here, making up for a little bit of the chaos she wrought while under Riddle's thrall.

…

Dumbledore rose to his feet, and a hush fell over the Great Hall. The entire school was present, anticipating this very announcement.

"I am certain many of you have already seen the article published in the Daily Prophet this morning," Dumbledore began, a twinkle in his eye. "Or the Hogwarts rumor mill has kept you sufficiently informed," he chuckled a little bit at this.

Link thought back to breakfast, when postage owls flew in bearing newspapers running the headline – _Lockhart Locked-up: Famous Author Exposed as Incompetent Fraud_. He imagined even the Giant Squid had heard the news by now.

"In any case, I will repeat what you already know: Gilderoy Lockhart is no longer your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Dumbledore stated. McGonagall wore a small, pleased grin, Professor Flitwick was bouncing giddily, and even Professor Snape looked less dour than usual. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked quite pleased with themselves, and there was a great deal of back-patting.

"This is, of course, comes as a great shock to us all," Dumbledore continued. Link could see McGonagall's eye roll even from across the hall. There was a small chorus of scattered, derisive snorts. "But in these trying times, we must soldier on, even without Gilderoy's award winning grin to spur us onward," Dumbledore bobbed his head bit, chuckling lightly at his own joke.

"But enough of that," Dumbledore continued when nobody joined in. "It is my great pleasure to announce that our very own Sir Nichole deMimsy-Porpington will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts for the remainder of the year."

The ghost appeared, took a bow, and his head flopped off. The Gryffindors applauded raucously, though the rest of the school responded more conservatively, concerned Nearly Headless Nick would be like Professor Binns.

"Beat that, Sir Properly-Decapitated Podmore," Link shouted amidst the applause.

…

"So, it's like Quidditch, but the Chasers actually matter?" Ginny asked, clarifying.

"Pretty much," Dean said. Seamus and Link bobbed their heads.

"I'm in."

…

Nearly Headless Nick was a surprisingly competent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for an entity that knew little of modern spell work. Instead, he impressed upon his students the importance of _dodging_ , and would display his-mostly severed neck as a grisly reminder.

Additionally, Sir Nick did not have to worry about the supposed curse on the DADA position, since he was already dead, and, he reported, being petrified wasn't too much of a hardship.

…

The end of the year exams seemed to pop up out of nowhere, at least in Link's opinion. Ginny and Colin ascribed this to Link spending more time negotiating with ornery portraits than focusing on schoolwork, an accusation that Link was not able to successfully field.

Nevertheless, the four first years made it through exams largely unscathed (except for Link, who, after somehow repotting a plant upside down during his final assumed that he was only allowed to progress to the next year because Neville interceded on his behalf.)

Far too soon the year came to an end, and they left Hogwarts behind to board the Express to King's Cross. Link dragged his friends to the front of the train, where they chatted with the conductor, and Link gleefully took control of the train.

Once on the platform they parted ways, with promises to write and quite a bit of hugging.

…

Luna's owl pecked Link until he would put quill to parchment and pen a response, which was wholly unpleasant, somehow _reminding_ Link of being pecked to the brink of death by a swarm of angry cuccos, powerless to retaliate. Consequently, even when out at see, fishing with Orca, he would carry a writing implement. Just in case.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! That's it for Year 1, folks. If you're worried about the lack of Acromantulas, House Elves and Flying Ford Anglias, don't worry, I'm saving them for the future. You never know when the plot could use some giant spiders, you know?**

 **ANNOUNCEMENT: This story will be on HIATUS until the week of August 14, 2017, so that I can get a head start on the next arc, get the plot together, all of that jazz. What can you look forward to in Year 2? Thestrals, Remus Lupin, Dementors, Time Travel, and some jaunts into The Forbidden Forest. I don't know if you're excited, but I sure am.**

 **EXTRA ANNOUNCEMENT: I just set up a poll to see what characters from LoZ I might include as Hogwarts students in this story. The poll is on my profile, and guidelines are listed there. I'll close the poll at the end of the Hiatus.**


	23. Part 23 - The Hogwarts Express

**_The Hogwarts Express_**

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned are mine.**

 **Warning: Little spoilers for most of the Zelda games, the worst one is for Twilight Princess. There's a dementor attack, so if you're not fond of dementors and reliving bad memories, skip the latter half of the chapter.**

* * *

This year, Link was able to walk through the pillar dividing platforms nine and ten with ease, making a note to himself to try walking through some of the walls at Hogwarts in the future – there might be hidden rooms on the other side.

Link walked through Platform 9¾ quickly, eager to board the Hogwarts Express, though he greeted any friends, acquaintances and quest givers with a wave and a smile. Students were milling around, accepting last minute reminders to behave well and to brush their teeth from their families. Link didn't have any family members to say goodbye to at the platform – his grandmother was frail, and the journey up to King's Cross from Lurelin village was not an easy one. However, Link carried a thermos full of his grandmother's soup as a gesture of her good will.

Carrying his trunk far more easily than a kid his size ought to be able, Link boarded the train, making his way straight up to the cab of the train, near the engine.

"Mr. Faron! Good to see, good to see you," the conductor greeted warmly. "Have you had a good summer there? I bet you have, now, could you give me a hand with this, my back isn't what it once was…"

Link didn't get a word in edgewise, but he wasn't particularly concerned about that – he was far too eager to get to work.

…

"Ah, there he is," Luna wandered into the cab, followed closely by Ginny and Colin shortly after the Hogwarts Express set out from the station. She peered around the room, eyeing each knob and lever. Only Link was there – the conductor, confident the Link could handle the train, had stepped out to use the bathroom. "And I don't see any flying cars here, so no need to worry about that, Ginny."

"Fine," Ginny groused. "But I still think Link would be just ridiculous enough to fly a car to Hogwarts."

Colin nodded his agreement.

"True enough," Luna's silvery eyes seemed to pierce into Link's soul for a moment, "But he likes driving the Express too much to miss out."

"I really like trains," Link shrugged, and then broke into a huge grin. He walked over to them, and there was a great deal of hugging and laughing. The small group swapped stories from the summer, and Link learned that Colin had spent most of his time knee deep in a creek trying to catch gecko's with his younger brother, Dennis, that Ginny visited her oldest brother Bill in Egypt along with the rest of the Weasleys, learning a slew of new, painful, hexes, while Luna befriended the gnomes in the Weasleys' garden ("Oh, that would explain what Mum was screeching about," Ginny commented lightly.)

"By the way," Ginny changed the topic, "Would any of you happen to know anything about Sirius Black?"

Link and Colin, muggleborns who didn't receive the Daily Prophet, looked at her blankly.

Luna, however, responded with interest, "Oh, you mean the Auror who was sent to Azkaban without a trial twelve years ago who escaped over the summer?" Luna checked.

"…yes?" Ginny said uncertainly. That wasn't how people usually described Sirius Black.

"Daddy thinks there's something fishy going on there, but he's not quite sure what it is," Luna said seriously. "He's been trying to interview Black's old acquaintances, follow some leads, but it appears everyone is quite tight-lipped about it. But Daddy will find the truth eventually," Luna said with absolute certainty.

"Wait," Ginny shifted her weight. "You're saying that that Black could be innocent? But – but he killed all of those people."

"I'm saying he wasn't proven guilty," Luna countered. "He was a trusted Auror for years, then suddenly turns _after_ Voldemort disappears?" Ginny flinched at You-Know-Who's name. "There are many ways for people to be mind-controlled in the magical world, and there isn't any record of Black being checked for any of them."

Ginny thought back to a year ago, when she had come under Tom Riddle's thrall. What if something similar had happened to Sirius Black? "Oh," Ginny said quietly.

"Well, that's a miscarriage of justice, then," Colin piped up. "Even the worst criminals deserve a trial. That's the Queen's law, isn't it?"

"But this was happening during a war, right?" Link spoke up. "People don't always act rationally during a war," Link said, his words heavy with _knowledge_.

"Sirius Black may be a murderer," Luna reminded her friends. "But he also might not be."

"What exactly did he do?" Colin asked, curious.

"Blew up an entire street," Ginny said bleakly. "Twelve muggles died, and one wizard."

"That's…not good," Colin said, his eyes wide.

"But since Black escaped Azkaban he hasn't done anything of the sort," Luna interjected.

"Well, who would, with all of the Azkaban guards after him," Ginny shivered.

The door to the cab opened, and the conductor walked in. The room suddenly felt uncomfortably full.

"Well, I'm going back to the compartment," Colin said a bit nervously. The conductor didn't look particularly please to have a gaggle of second years in his cab.

"Me too," Ginny said.

"Have fun driving your train, Link," Luna waved goodbye.

…

As the day wore on the mists grew thicker and rain began to fall hard and fast. Link, concerned, threw on the headlight far before night truly fell, hoping to increase the level of visibility. After a brief discussion with the conductor, Link chose to slow the speed of the train. If something were to wander onto the tracks with visibility so poor, he wouldn't be able to intervene until it was far too late.

"It's not natural, it is," the conductor grumbled, and not even the trolley witch's offer of a chocolate frog was enough lift the man's spirits.

Link frowned, and pulled out his wand. He felt much more secure with it safely in hand. "How far away are we from Hogsmeade?" Link asked.

"We've got more than a hundred kilometers left to go," the conductor said.

"Hm," Link hummed. "Could we maybe send an owl ahead to Hogsmeade, report that there's some unusual weather and that we're experiencing a delay?"

"I suppose we ought to," the conductor said reluctantly. He looked over to the trolley witch. "Could you track down a prefect with an owl?" he asked.

The trolley witch agreed amiably enough, and the conductor and Link set themselves to the task at hand – scanning ahead to make sure the tracks were clear and slowing the train to a pace less blistering.

The landscape was a bleak, washed out gray, dampened and deadened by the heavy mists. Though the track remained clear of obstacles, Link, with his sharp eyes, could make out unnatural movements, shadows that lingered where they should not. An unseasonable chill settled in the air, and, when Link put his hand on the scarlet outside of the Express it was ice cold.

Suddenly, the brakes screeched, and the Express lurched to a shuddering halt, jostling Link where he hung halfway out the window.

Turning to look inside the cab, Link asked "Why did you pull the brakes?" of the conductor.

"I didn't," the conductor replied, alarmed.

"That's…not good," Link fiddled with his wand. "Are there any spells or creatures that could make mists like this, and make it cold and everything?" Link asked, concern coloring his voice. The chilly, dead feeling in their air _reminded_ Link of walking through a crypt, praying that a re-dead wasn't lurking behind, waiting to hug the life out of him.

"None that should be attacking the Hogwarts Express," the conductor said, a shudder in his voice.

The Express came to a final, shuddering, halt.

"Then are there any that _shouldn't_ be," Link pressed.

"The Azkaban guards," the conductor whispered with dread. Every light went dark, and even the coals ceased to glow with fiery heat.

"Lumos," Link said, holding his wand aloft, though the light did not pierce the darkness as it should. The shadows moved, a thick ooze occupying its own space in the cab. One shadow touched the tip of Link's boot, and suddenly there was intent and desire to their menace.

Link's breaths came shallowly, and his entire body felt as if it were made of ice, except where his left hand clasped the hilt of his wand, which continued to glow, but the light appeared dimmer and dimmer.

"Expect- expected Potrone," the conductor cast desperately, waving his wand, but the spell failed to produce any visible effect.

Desperately Link attempted to lash out at the darkness with his wand, but the darkness merely parted and reformed.

 _It's dangerous to go alone_ , the memory rose unbidden in Link's mind, and his breaths came shallowly, the old weight of responsibility while dancing on a knife's edge settling like a cloak over him.

 _The menacing sounds of an organ, curling down an endless velvet staircase,_ another memory followed, and the strength in Link's legs failed, as if he were still climbing – then a misshapen, grayish hand wrapped around the cab's doorframe.

 _The moon descended, a grimace painted on its face as its weight engulfed the world in flame,_ and Link was on his back now, his eyes wide with horror as the hooded figure glided forward, the temperature turning even colder.

 _The mirror shattered into endless fragments, leaving Link to never see his friend again_ , the hood dropped backwards, revealing an empty, gray face, where sockets sunk without eyes and an open, gaping hole into the abyss where the mouth should be. Link tried to raise his wand, to combat this menace but –

" _The truth of it is you were late," the woman said, her eyes cold, "You were late, and you failed to protect her,"_ but the memories assailed him, dredged up mercilessly from the deepest parts of his mind, and Link could do no more than stare at the terrifying figure in horror.

 _The roc became but a speck in the distance, and Link dangled from the edge of the cliff as his sister was carried away,_ the next memory came, and the demon hovered above him, and the abyss where it's mouth should have been loomed closer and closer –

 _The beams from the guardians rent entire districts of castle town asunder, and Calamity Ganon itself circled Hyrule Castle like a predator its prey. Zelda tried and tried to cast her sealing magic, but to no avail. Link rushed forward, the Master Sword gleaming, desperate to save_ somebody _, but a guardian's beam strikes him, and Link knows he has failed_ –

But then there was light, and the darkness shied away leaving only a man, and that was all Link could see before his eyes drooped shut of their own accord.

* * *

 **AN: Welcome back, and thanks for reading and reviewing! Sorry for stretching the definition of the "week of August 14** **th** **", last weekend left me in a bit of an emotional funk. For now the update schedule will be once a week, probably on Thursdays. Maybe Fridays.**

 **Italicized memories reference or quote LoZ games, usual disclaimer applies.**


	24. Part 24 - The Defense Professor

_**The Defense Professor**_

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned are mine.**

 **Warning: There are still dementors attacking! Beware!**

* * *

"Eat," Remus ordered Harry, whose green eyes – Lily's eyes – looked haunted after his encounter with the dementor, one of the guards of Azkaban. "It'll help," he added. Remus considered saying something more, offering some other reassurance, but there was too much in his head – this was James's _son_ – so he fled, instead. "I need to speak to the conductor, excuse me…"

Remus strode out of the overfull compartment (seven students, an owl, and a cat by his count) toward the front of the train, keeping his wand high, alert for any other dementors. He understood that Black was a threat, but to send dementors onto a train full of vulnerable children? Remus shook his head with disgust. That was wrong, no matter how the ministry attempted to rationalize it.

The two younger girls in the compartment – the redhead and the dirty blonde – were particularly badly effected, quivering and pale. And Harry – Remus didn't want to dwell on what sort of memories had been dredged up by the dementor.

The temperature dropped another degree, and Remus seethed at the sight of another dementor, gliding into the cab. Remus strode forward, determined to see every last dementor removed from the train, when he saw something that made his heart catch in his throat.

The dementor had removed its hood, and was leaning low over a boy no older than Harry and his friends. Desperately, Remus raised his wand and removed himself from the horror of the moment, focusing on his happiest memories – Dumbledore permitting him to attend Hogwarts, and his friends accepting him, even as a werewolf.

"Expecto Patronum!" Remus yelled hoarsely, and a luminescent wolf burst from the tip of his wand, snarling furiously. The wolf barreled straight into the dementor, teeth bared, and the dementor fell back, replacing its hood over its withered gray head.

"Leave this place," Remus ordered the dementor, buoyed by the glowing presence of his patronus. "And do not return."

The dementor departed, and the air warmed.

Remus turned to his patronus. "Send this message ahead to the castle," he drew a complicated figure with his wand, "Dementors boarded the train. At least two students require further treatment, one student almost kissed by a dementor. Advice would be appreciated."

The wolf bounded out the window, through the mist and rain toward Hogwarts.

The conductor propped himself up, unsteadily coming to his feet. "Thank you," the wizard said, his voice strained.

Remus nodded, uncertain how to respond. He looked over the boy, sprawled on the floor, ashen-faced and unconscious. "We need to get moving," Remus knelt by the kid, and turned him to his side to prevent any choking. "He needs better medical attention than I can give him, and I don't want to risk side-along apparition."

"Right, right," the conductor said, but his movements were sluggish.

"Do you have any chocolate up here?" Remus asked.

"The sweets trolley is stashed in the closet there," the conductor directed.

"Thanks," Remus said shortly. He found the trolley and retrieved a couple bars of chocolate. "Eat some, it'll make you feel better," Remus told the wizard, handing him several squares.

The conductor accepted the chocolate dubiously, but smiled once he felt the sweet's comforting effects. He took a second bite, eagerly. "Now I feel more like myself again," the conductor shared. "Before, I felt like, like…"

"As if you'd never be happy again," Remus agreed with a wry smile. With a wave of his wand, he conjured a mat and pillow for the boy and cast a heating charm, dispelling some of the chill left by the dementors.

Experimentally, Remus broke off a piece of chocolate and waved it over the boy's face, but there was no effect. Even while unconscious lines of agony stretched across the student's face, and his grip on his was white-knuckled. A nightmare, maybe, pulled forward by the dementor.

A deep weariness settled over Remus, even though he had spent most of the day sleeping (or pretending to sleep, while he listened to Harry and his friends joke and laugh and antagonize Slytherins), he felt as if he could sleep for several hours more. Remus took a small bite of chocolate, and he felt a little bit better, but his worries continued to gnaw at him: worry about being a good teacher, worry about students learning he was a werewolf, worry for Harry, who was being pursued by a murderer who he had once considered his friend, and worry for the student in front of him, who had almost been kissed by a dementor, and who looked so very still and small.

"What's his name?" Remus asked the conductor, after feeling the train lurch forward down the tracks once more.

"That there's Mr. Faron," the conductor explained. "Link Faron, I think. Came onto the Hogwarts Express for the first time last year and went straight up here, said he wanted to drive it," the conductor chuckled ruefully. "So I gave him a shot, and he's a right natural. Wasn't a bit surprised to see him sorted into Gryffindor, and to hear him tell it he's explored half the castle already."

Remus smiled a bit at that, but before he could reply the trolley witch burst into the cab, and it took several minutes to convince her that the dementors were gone, Link would be quite alright, and that if she were to hand out chocolate to the students to help them recover from their encounters with the dementors she would be reimbursed by Hogwarts.

With the trolley witch well on her way, Remus asked the conductor to announce to the students that they were to remain in their compartments for the remainder of the journey, and that they would be arriving at Hogsmeade Station within a couple hours, so as to prevent any dangerous tomfoolery.

Link stirred in his makeshift cot, mumbling incoherently. Remus rushed over to his side, concerned. The young Gryffindor was caught in the throes of a nightmare, twitching in his unnatural slumber. Reflexively Remus brought a hand to Link's brow, brushing away a few strands of hair that were plastered there, and made quiet, soothing assurances, as Remus half-remembered his mother had done so many years ago.

Link responded to Remus's touch, his erratic twitching and mumbling settling, his breaths slow and no longer frenzied.

"It's time to wake up now, Mr. Faron," Remus murmured, running a hand through Link's hair. "The danger has passed. Wake up, Link."

With a start and a gasp of breath, Link awoke, but he immediately scrunched his eyes shut again. "Is it gone?" the young Gryffindor asked, a tremble in his voice.

"Yes," Remus assured the youth, and his heart broke, because no child should look that frightened. "The dementor is gone. You're safe now."

"Okay," Link tried to nod, but his body felt limp and weak. He opened his eyes and looked up at Remus. There were tears streaming out of the boy's eyes. Link brought a trembling hand up to brush them away. "What?" he looked surprised. "I – I don't cry. Not – not ever."

"Here," Remus pressed a square of chocolate into Link's hand. "Eat it, you'll feel more like yourself."

Link ate the chocolate without any hesitation, and within a few moments his color was a shade less pallid. "Can I have some more?" Link asked, once he finished the first piece.

"As much as you want," Remus smiled. "Some water would not go amiss, as well," he said, and he conjured a small cup and filled it with a muttered "Aguamenti."

By the time Link had finished the whole chocolate bar, his limbs were no longer trembling, and color had returned to his face. "Thank you," Link said, handing the conjured cup of water back to Remus. "You're the person who save me, right? With the light and everything?"

Remus nodded gravely. "My name is Remus Lupin," he said hoarsely. "I'm the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

A small smile alit Link's face. "So we'll actually learn something this year?"

"I would hope so," Remus said modestly.

"Praise Hylia," Link mumbled. The Gryffindor laid back against the conjured pillow, blinking up at the metal ceiling of the cab. "Could you teach me about that thing? You know, the dementor? I've never seen anything like it before. I-I couldn't fight back. It just pulled everything out me, made me remember…stuff. But you, you were able to drive it off with that glowy thing."

Remus looked down at Link sympathetically. "That was a dementor," he began. "A denizen of the darkness, which feeds on human happiness. Too much time near a dementor, and every good feeling, every happy memory will be drained from you, until you can no longer imagine ever being happy again. At present, they are being used as the guards of Azkaban, the wizard prison."

"Those things guard the _prison_?" Link asked. "But, but that's terrible. You commit a crime and your punishment is to have your psyche torn apart by the grim reaper?"

Remus nodded solemnly. "The dementors boarded this train looking for Sirius Black, the escaped prisoner," he explained tersely. "The ministry ordered it. That's why Professor Dumbledore had me on this train, just in case the dementors overstepped their bounds."

Link shook his head in disbelief. "How can they rationalize this?" he questioned.

Remus sighed, considering Link's question. "It all stems from fear," Remus said at last. "Fear of other people, fear that you won't have control. We are so afraid of the prisoners of Azkaban that we made a deal with fear incarnate to keep them locked away."

Link stared at the ceiling pensively. "I'm not sure I understand," Link admitted. "I've been scared before, yeah. But to let that control you…I just don't get it. It would be like, there's the Basilisk, attacking and everything, trying to fight back, and I just throw somebody else at it and run away. Or something. It doesn't make _sense_."

Remus was reminded, suddenly and fiercely, of James and Sirius, of their Gryffindorish antics and daring streak a mile wide. He shook his head, trying to shake away the memories, and focused on Link's words. "Why would it be a Basilisk?"

"Haven't you heard about the whole Chamber of Secrets thing?" Link quirked a brow.

"Professor Dumbledore may have mentioned something in passing," Remus said.

"Huh," Link frowned. "Well, I'll give you the quick version. The Heir of Slytherin released a Basilisk to prowl the school using the plumbing, targeting muggleborns, and Luna and I got a little bit too class to figuring all of that out," Link begins. "So the Heir sets the Basilisk on me, but it doesn't quite manage to off me, so the Heir goes ahead and kidnaps me, but Luna figures out where the Chamber is so she and Harry go down to rescue. They're a bit late, though, and I still have to slay the Basilisk, but I had a magic sword so I managed well enough, and they defeated the Heir with the power of friendship, or something, Luna isn't the greatest at explanations."

Remus was reeling. "You slayed a Basilisk?" he asked, trying to grasp how this kid, who couldn't be more than twelve, wound up in so much trouble.

"The magic sword helped," Link said modestly. "And my friends took care of the Heir, which was quite nice."

"I need to have a long talk with Professor Dumbledore," Remus muttered, and Link chuckled.

As if summoned by the mention of his name, a luminescent phoenix alighted on the windowsill. Link turned over and looked at the creature, his eyes wide with wonder.

"It is as I feared," the patronus said in Dumbledore's light voice. "Senior prefects should patrol the train, 6th and 7th years. The Head Boy can organize that. You know your remedies, Remus. Spread as much chocolate around as you can," the phoenix chuckled. "I imagine you have things well in hand." The patronus dissipated.

Remus frowned.

"That wasn't particularly useful," Link said what Remus was thinking. "Though the glowing bird was pretty cool."

"A patronus," Remus provided. "An advanced defensive charm. It's what I used to repel the dementor," he explained.

"Woah," Link mouthed the word. He was sitting back on his heels, gnawing on another square of chocolate. "So you summoned a glowing bird to save me?"

"A wolf, actually," Remus corrected Link. "Each patronus is unique to the spellcaster, depending on their personality, identity, emotions, and so on. The patronus is the embodiment of ones positive emotions, and, since it is not human, it cannot be hurt by the dementor."

"That is so cool," Link bounced a little. "So, when are you going to teach me?"

"What?"

"Teach me how to do the Patronus charm," Link said. "I need to know. The dementor almost got me before, and this is the only way I'll be able to defend myself. With my luck I'll definitely run into one again."

"The Patronus charm is a highly advanced piece of magic, Link," Remus protested.

"I slayed a Basilisk last year," Link waved away his protest.

"The two things aren't necessarily related," Remus argued. This felt like one of his many _discussions_ with Sirius.

"And McGonagall says I'm very precocious," Link barreled along. Remus could imagine James was laughing at him from beyond the grave. "So, how would Tuesday nights work for you? Usually nothing too exciting happens on Tuesday nights."

"I didn't agree," Remus backpedaled.

"You will," Link grinned. "I made some very good points, and besides, this whole dementor situation is a quest now. I've got to see it through."

Remus wondered, briefly, if this was penance for his years of mischief making in school.

"So?" Link shoved some more chocolate down his throat.

"Fine."

Link spun around and punched a hand into the air in triumph.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Remus Lupin, competent DADA teacher, enters the scene.**

 **Just a heads up, I have actual life responsibilities now, so I'm going to limit myself to responding to reviews and PMs just once a week. Sorry if that leaves you waiting for a bit, I've just got to manage my time a little better now. Thanks for understanding! You are all wonderful!**


	25. Seven Students, a Cat, a Rat, and an Owl

**_Seven Students, a Cat, a Rat and an Owl_**

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned are mine.**

* * *

In the last compartment on the train was a veritable gaggle of students, a cat, a a rat, and an owl. There were seated like this:

On the left, towards the back, where Professor R. J. Lupin ( _honestly_ Ron, it's written on his case) had the spent the majority of the ride sleeping, sat Ronald Weasley, who was pushed towards the window when three other students joined him on a bench that was meant to seat two: Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and Colin Creevey. Ron was at a bit of a loss, because even an hour after the dementor had been expelled by Professor R. J. Lupin she was still pale and clinging to his arm like a limpet. Luna was looking quite pale as well, her legs drawn in with her head nestled between her knees. Colin had a hand on Luna's arm, and occasionally patted it awkwardly.

Ron, additionally, had the mangy old rat Scabbers in his pocket, an object of intense interest to the being sat across from him, the squash-faced and crooked-tailed Crookshanks. Though it may have been much more comfortable for all of the humans in the compartment for Crookshanks to sit on his owner's lap (insofar as any person can be a cat's owner. A more appropriate term could be unwitting servant.) Hermione, Crookshanks' unwitting servant, was seated beside Harry, and was resisting the urge to run her finger's through his perpetually unruly hair because her friend looked so cold and scared and empty after his encounter with the Dementor. She did not do this, of course, because Harry was being stupid and Gryffindorish, worrying about appearing strong when he really ought to be worrying about feeling better, so Hermione did what she could to help without ruffling Harry's prickly feathers. Neville, seated next to Harry, did not mind being crowded into the corner. He was just happy not to be alone, right now.

Hedwig, the owl, did not feel overcrowded at all, because she was safely ensconced in her cage on the shelf overhead. She did, however, want to peck Harry until he felt better, but that was a common state of affairs.

"I'm worried about Link," Luna spoke from between her knees. This was not a new thought, but it had taken her this long to voice it. Luna had spent the better part of an hour combating a particularly virulent plague of nargles, and it was only now that she could think clearly. Or, semi-clearly, at least, she modified as another nargle flitted across her vision. A half-dozen remained, but Luna was convinced that they would not leave until she'd seen that Link was alive and well.

"Link stabbed a Basilisk in the eye. Twice," Ron snorted. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"But that's why I think he won't be fine," Luna argued.

Hermione caught on. "Because he was in the Chamber, too," she said, realization dawning. "You and Harry and Ginny were the people the Dementor effected the worst, because the Chamber was such a bad memory for you. Amongst other things," she stole half a glance at Harry, who was looking resolutely into the middle distance, determined not to make eye contact with anybody.

"Mmm-hmmm," Luna's nose brushed her knee as she nodded. "I want to go check on him."

"But Luna," Hermione protested. "The conductor told us to stay put."

"Did he?" Luna tilted her head. "I must have missed that bit while I was sorting out my nargles."

"Link's up with the conductor, isn't he?" Colin interjected. "So if the conductor's able to make an announcement, then Link must be alright. The dementor probably didn't visit that part of the train," he concluded optimistically.

"That makes sense," Ron nodded eagerly.

"Wasn't Professor Lupin heading up there?" Neville put in from his corner. "Link will definitely be alright if he's with him."

Everybody in the compartment agreed on that point. Professor R.J. Lupin was a figure of unparalleled heroism and competency in their eyes, and if he was with Link, then their friend was in good hands.

A few more nargles flitted away, leaving behind a persistent trio. "Okay," Luna agreed. "We'll pick him up when we disembark."

...

...

Exiting the compartment was something of a nightmare – Neville trod on Colin's toes, Ron trod on Crookshank's tail, and Luna trod on everyone else in her haste to make her way to the cab of the train. She had delayed enough already.

Luna faintly heard Ginny mutter "Oh, bollocks" and hurry to catch up, dragging Colin along as well. It took a certain amount of skill to weave her way through the pods of gossiping, shivery students. Several students had lips stained with chocolate, and Luna idly wiped the back of her hand over her mouth.

Where Luna maneuvered lithely through the crowds, Ginny steamrolled through, and Colin followed behind offering cheery apologies and soothing ruffled feathers.

The door to the cab was closed, but Luna paid that barrier no heed, springing the door open without hesitation. She had already delayed enough.

"…and that's why Professor McGonagall confiscated my slingshot," Luna heard Link say, and she sagged with relief. Link was safe, though he looked ashen and chocolate stained his fingers and mouth. He was also visibly bouncing, shifting and moving, vibrating from the excess energy of a massive sugar rush.

"I can't say I blame her," Professor Lupin grinned ruefully. "Ah, hello there. Miss Lovegood, Miss Weasley, Mr. Creevey. Mr. Faron's told me all about you."

"It's Link," the Gryffindor complained, and he was already hugging Luna. "Faron is a province, or a river or something. Maybe a spring." And, though Link's words were flippant, there was an edge of desperation to his embrace that Luna sympathized with all too well.

"Perhaps a bay?" Luna suggested blithely, because the only other option was crying because her best friend was here, safe, and not trapped in the Chamber of Secrets with a basilisk and Voldemort's possessed diary.

"Faron bay?" Link pulled back, and his hands were shaking. "That sounds about right." He held Luna's gaze for a moment, and there was a lot dwelling in his head that remained unspoken. Luna supposed that was all right, because there was a lot Luna couldn't say either. But then the moment passed, and Link was hugging Ginny and Colin with more strength than any twelve-year-old had any right to possess.

"So, so let's go, right," Link tripped over his words. "Carriages this year. Sounds cool."

"For your friends, perhaps," Professor Lupin said, "But you are going with me to the hospital wing."

"Hospital wing?" Ginny asked, looking at Link with concern.

"I may have gotten on the bad side of the dementor," Link shrugged as if this was nothing.

It wasn't nothing. Everybody in the cab knew that much.

"And, and I've about ten bars of chocolate!" Link argued.

"I'm aware of that," Professor Lupin said drily. Luna vividly imagined the tired looking man sighing as Link became more and more hyped up on sugar. "But I am going to insist that Madame Pomfrey give you and Harry a once over. Understood?"

"Fine," Link threw himself on the floor comically. "Go, my friends. Enjoy the enchanted carriages in my name. Pursue the adventure I cannot, while I lay here, withering."

"Jolly good," Colin grinned. "I'll bring you a souvenir."

"A nice sliver of wood," Ginny added.

"We'll probably pull at the first thread of a mystery," Luna smiled. "But we'll be sure to fill you in."

"Gosh, I hope you do," Link grinned at them goofily. "Go on, now. Have an adventure. Those enchanted carriages won't move themselves."

"Actually," Ginny considered. "I think the point is that they do."

...

...

"I don't suppose either of you can see handsome skeletal horse-like whirligig pulling the carriage?" Luna asked her companions casually.

"What?" Colin blinked. "A skeleton horse? That sounds amazing!" He whirled around excitedly.

"No, I can't see anything but the carriage," Ginny said more reservedly.

"Well, that's interesting," Luna frowned lightly. "I wonder why you can't see them." Luna hesitated for a moment, but if the whirligig was considered safe enough to pull the school carriages, there likely wouldn't be any harm in saying hello. She approached the whirligig from the front, and extended a hand in greeting. "Hello, there. Thank you for pulling the carriage. I don't suppose you could take us for a ride?"

The whirligig nuzzled Luna's hand briefly, then shook its head, briefly extending its wings.

"Thank you very much," Luna smiled, and alighted into the carriage.

"Did you say hello to the invisible skeleton horse?" Colin asked, curious.

"Hm? Oh, yes," Luna said. "They have wings, too."

"Woah," Colin breathed, his eyes huge.

"Perhaps we should have gone to the hospital wing with Link," Ginny muttered.

"But we promised him a quest, and a quest we found," Luna turned to her friend. " 'The Mystery of the Not-So-Enchanted Carriages.' I imagine he'll be quite pleased."

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I had way too much fun imagining everybody crammed into one, tiny compartment. Updates are weekly!**


	26. Part 26 - Corners

_**Corners**_

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned are mine.**

 **Warning: This chapters details combatting the after effects of dementors being the absolute worst.**

* * *

"So, I don't suppose there's any way you'll just let me, say, skip the whole Hospital Wing lark and go to the feast?" Link asked Professor Lupin petulantly.

"No," the much put-upon teacher replied.

"But _professor_ ," Link circled Lupin like a vengeful cucco, "I'm _fine_. It's been hours since the dementor attacked, give me some food and sleep and my health will be totally restored."

"Link, you are going to the Hospital Wing, where Madame Pomfrey will fuss over you and probably feed you even more chocolate, putting her in the unenviable position of coping with your sugar rush," Professor Lupin fixed Link with a look. "But it is also necessary, because you were attacked by one of the deadliest creatures on the planet only a few hours ago. That's not something you just get to walk off, Gryffindor or no."

And, really, Link would protest that of course he could walk off a dementor attack, easy, but for one he was still firmly in denial of some of the images he was _remembering_ , and for another… "You called me Link!"

Professor Lupin started. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, Mr. Faron," he objected.

"No, you definitely called me Link," he was grinning. "That's fantastic. It took me months to break Professor McGonagall out of the habit."

"Exactly how many of your teachers refer to you as Link?" Professor Lupin wondered aloud.

"Most of 'em," Link's grinned turned wolf-like. "Except for Professor Snape, but he's just intimidated by my love of potions class," Link said resolutely. "It feels better. Mr. Faron isn't really me, you know? I'm just Link, when you get down to it."

Professor Lupin paused and considered Link's words. "All right, Link," he put a hand on the Gryffindor's shoulder, steering him up the stairs to the second floor. "Let's get you to the Hospital Wing."

Link didn't protest – he was too lost in his own head.

…

The bed linens were a cool white, the corners crisply folded. Link picked at it frenetically. Even though Link had only been at Hogwarts one year, he was already very familiar with the Hospital Wing – with the way light streamed in through the windows in the mornings, the pungent smell of Pepper-Up Potions, the quiet rustle of the privacy curtains.

Professor Lupin and Madame Pomfrey were conversing in low, hushed voices, and normally Link would have formulated several schemes to eavesdrop on their conversation, but today he remained on the cot, picking at the white sheet, slowly rumpling the precisely folded corners. Even with all of the chocolate he had consumed, the waves of artificially sugar energy still rocking his system, Link still felt exhausted.

He had already put forward his brave face for the day, and now all he wanted was to rest. But that was also the last thing Link wanted to do, because then he would start thinking about what he had _remembered_ and that was the _very_ last thing he wanted to do. It almost made Link want to laugh, if it weren't so pathetic. He faced a basilisk last year, and now he was too scared to dwell in his own mind?

So he picked at the sheet, and thought only of slowly loosening those tightly folded corners, and not of everything else.

"Eat up," Madame Pomfrey held yet another bar of chocolate in front of Link's nose. He hadn't noticed her walk up.

Link looked at the chocolate balefully. "Another?" he frowned a little. He couldn't even think of the amount of chocolate he had ingested in the past few hours.

"Another, Link," Madame Pomfrey ordered, and her tone brooked no argument. "And one for you as well, Remus, you're looking far too thin," she tutted over the man.

"I assure you that I am doing quite well, Poppy," Professor Lupin protested, until Madame Pomfrey leveled him with a _look_ and he acquiesced without any further prompting, breaking off squares of chocolate and consuming them in small, dignified bites. "Well, I'd best be off," the Defense Professor said. "I would like to have a word with Albus before the Sorting."

"Make sure to eat all of that, Remus," Madame Pomfrey fussed over the man fondly. Link felt his lips turn up a little at the sight – it was easy to tell that the matron was fond of the new professor. Perhaps Remus had gotten into scrapes during his own time at Hogwarts? Madame Pomfrey always fussed over her more disaster-prone charges.

"I wouldn't dare leave a crumb," Professor Lupin joked lightly. He turned and looked directly at Link, and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. Link stopped picking at the sheet, the light contact settling him. "Link," Professor Lupin began, and the corners of Link's mouth tilted further up at hearing Professor Lupin call him by his preferred name. "You faced a trial that grown witches and wizards fear today. And you are acting so very strong – but Link, I know you can't possibly be feeling nearly as well as you pretend you are. And, judging by my own experience, you won't be for quite a long time," for the first time, Link noticed the pain lingering in Professor Lupin's eyes. "But you are not alone in this, Link. And if you ever need anything, know that my office door is open."

"I'll definitely be need those Patronus lessons," Link forced a grin.

Professor Lupin shook his head, and his grip on Link's shoulder tightened. "Not just for lessons," he clarified. "Even if you just need to talk."

Link was tempted to look away, to make a joke of Professor Lupin's offer, but he fought those impulses and held Lupin's gaze and said "Okay," in a quiet voice.

Lupin released Link's shoulder with a final squeeze, straightened up, broke off another piece of chocolate and left the hospital wing.

"Make sure to eat up," Madame Pomfrey reminded Link.

With a small grimace Link nibbled at the rich chocolate. "Could I have a glass of water?" he asked. His mouth felt dry and sticky.

"Of course, of course," Madame Pomfrey acquiesced easily, and she bustled over to her office to retrieve a cup.

"Thanks," Link said, in a smaller voice than normal. He tried to focus on Lupin's parting reassurances, and how nice the man had been, and not _why_ he needed those reassurances in the first place.

"I promise, I'm fine professor, there's no need for me to go to the Hospital Wing," Link heard Harry say through the doors.

"Nonsense, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall chided Harry. "You are going to the Hospital Wing, it is merely a matter of whether you will enter of your own volition or I'll need to transfigure wheels on to your shoes to get you moving."

"…Fine," Harry grumbled.

"Very good," Professor McGonagall said. "Now, Miss Granger and I will meet you in a few minutes, once we have discussed her schedule," there was a pause. "Go on, then."

The doors opened with a growl, and a very sullen and pale Harry Potter slouched inside. Link could barely make out Professor McGonagall, her hair pulled into a tight bun, pulling a concerned looking Hermione away to her office.

" 'lo," Harry mumbled at Link vaguely.

Madame Pomfrey emerged from her office, saying, "Now, here's your water, Link, there's a good lad," before he could respond. Link put the chocolate down on the sheets, worrying internally over staining the crisp white linen, and then worried about not thinking of white cloth bleeding to red, and then he began to _remember_ –

He took the water, and said thank you. He made himself ingest the cool liquid – not ice cold, or lukewarm, or boiling like lava – and not think any more. Both of his hands were wrapped around the glass, and he drank in small sips, not too much, because he _remembered_ what it was like to drown, and –

He put the glass down, all the way on the floor. Link grabbed the chocolate – the sheet wasn't stained, thank Hylia (oh, Hylia, Hylia, _Hylia_ ) – and took a bite. Chocolate was safe and sweet, even if it did leave his mouth sticky and with the artificial energy of a sugar rush.

There was a crinkle to his right, and there was Harry, unwrapping his own bar of chocolate, Madame Pomfrey nowhere in sight. Link blinked – he must have missed something (where had the time gone?).

"So, the dementor got to you, too?" Harry asked, throwing his legs over the side of his cot, facing Link.

"Yeah, I passed out," Link took a bite of his chocolate. He didn't trust himself to turn towards the older boy.

"Me, too," Harry admitted.

Warmth ballooned in Link's chest. He wasn't alone. Link felt some of the haze clouding his mind dissipate. "I thought I was the only one."

"Yeah. Yeah. Me too," Harry said. "It was awful. Um, I – I heard a woman screaming. She, she just was screaming, and screaming, and a green light, and then I woke up," Harry said this all in a rush.

"I _remembered_ things. Bad things, really bad things. An entire kingdom in flames, people dying – anyway." Link's tongue felt numb even as he tried to form the words. He took another bite of chocolate, and started on a different tack. "I never thanked you. Before. You and Luna, you saved me. Without your help, Ginny and I wouldv'e – "

"Fat lot of help I was," Harry snorted. "I got petrified. And then today, I _fainted_. I'm – I'm weak. Pathetic."

Oh. Harry needed help. Link could do that – easier to help Harry confront his demons than dwell in his own head. "Eat some more chocolate," Link advised. That's what Lupin and Madame Pomfrey had made him do for the past several hours. "And if you're weak, well, then so am I," Link let himself smile a little at the words. They felt _right_. "At least it's good company. Oh, and I badgered Remus into giving me patronus lessons, if you want to come along."

"Remus?" Harry asked, and Link could see that the Gryffindor was wearing an unusually open expression. Usually, Link recalled, Harry was very guarded with his emotions.

"Professor Lupin. Show them how weak we are, when we can summon giant glowy things that can chase away dementors," Link said.

"Yeah," Harry warmed up to the idea. "A couple of Gryffindors and their giant glowy things. That'll show them."

They were both grinning, and there was chocolate stuck on the corners of their mouths. Link allowed himself to dwell in that moment, and not _remember_ the others.

…

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate all of the support. The next update should be next Friday or Saturday.**

 **Also, my heart goes out to everybody whose lives have been affected by the recent slew of natural disasters. A fanfiction isn't the greatest medium for providing tangible support, but I hope that this silly story can be some sort of comfort to some of you during these tough times. *internet hugs to all of you***


	27. Part 27 - New Faces

_**New Faces**_

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned are mine.**

* * *

The Sorting Hat sat on its stool, a worn flap of sentient fabric, granted the ability to read minds and determine the fate of Wizarding Britain centuries ago by an aged Godric Gryffindor through the Sorting of adolescent witches and wizards.

Luna blinked and shook her head, trying to shake away her maudlin musings. She wished that Link were here, grinning at the Sorting Hat's song, instead of languishing in the Hospital Wing. She wished that she could shift tables, to sit with Ginny and Colin. Ginny was always so bright and _there_ , a steady point in time and space, and lifeline when she felt adrift. Instead she was at the Ravenclaw table, functionally alone, even as she brushed shoulders with her fellow 'Claws.

The Hat concluded its song with a boisterous note met with equally boisterous applause. Luna joined belatedly, though her hands made little real noise. She stopped early, as well.

Professor McGonagall called the first name (Atkinson, Levi!) and the sorting began, a series of nervous children approaching an ancient magical device probe their minds without their full knowledge or consent. Luna blinked again, and tried to distract herself by craning to look at the gathered First Years.

They were gathered close to each other, like penguins huddled for warmth, but this group were far too colorful to be penguins. Many had typical hair colors, but others were vivid, almost neon – green and red and blue – a cavalcade of hues not typical for this time and place.

"Glaide, Saria!" McGonagall called, and the girl with the vivid green hair took small steps up to the hat and placed it on her head, the brim covering the upper half of her face. One minute passed, then two, then two more, and soon whispering began darting around the Hall. An older Ravenclaw elbowed his friend and said, _sotto voce_ , "It's a hat stall."

"It's not a hat stall yet, once you're in seven minutes it's a hat stall, its only been five," the friend replied pedantically.

Luna tried not to think about the old adage, that you should never trust anything that thinks for itself if you can't see where its brain is, and how the Sorting Hat was trusted with the fate of an entire country's schoolchildren.

"So, _now_ it's a hat stall," the first Ravenclaw pointed at his watch.

"…Yes," the second Ravenclaw confirmed, just as the Sorting Hat yelled "HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Grayfeather, Groose!" took far less time to sort (GRYFFINDOR!), and Luna amused herself thinking of the boy's carefully styled point of bright red hair poking up inside of the hat, while "Greengrass, Astoria!" was stuck on the stool for several minutes before the Sorting Hat hollered "RAVENCLAW!" to a waiting hall.

Luna clapped with the rest of the Ravenclaws to welcome the wan looking girl to their table.

Another red-head, "Lon, Malon!", was sorted to Gryffindor next, her hair a match for Ginny's, continuing the theme established by the Weasley clan. By Luna's estimate, the only red-head not in Gryffindor was Susan Bones from Hufflepuff.

Two more students were sorted into Ravenclaw in rapid succession, first "Matthews, Malo!", an extremely short boy with the sort of chubby features usually reserved for toddlers, and then "McLaggen, Cawlin!", whose hair was, appropriately enough, raven blue.

What does the hat do every other day of the year? Luna wondered, losing interest in the ceremony. Does it just sit in the Headmaster's office, slowly growing more and more senile? Or, does the hat have friends, or a little hat family? Why does the hat compose it songs in the style of folk ballads from the 18th century? Shouldn't the parameters of its enchantment from the 11th century only include knowledge of early chant music? For that matter, how would a hat from the 11th century maintain up-to-date knowledge of what it means to be brave, or ambitious, or clever in the 20th century?

Luna blinked, and "Zoraptera, Strich!" was Sorted into Slytherin, and within moments Dumbledore was standing, greeting the people of Hogwarts with a twinkle in his eye, and warning them of the dementors prowling the edges of the grounds for a man who had not been proven guilty.

Professor Lupin was introduced, with his scars and tattered robes, and for the first time that night Luna applauded wholeheartedly, because he had saved Link from a fate that Luna could not afford to dwell upon else lose the fragile mental equilibrium she was clinging to.

Luna sat through the meal, a pale specter at the feast, and, the moment Dumbledore spoke his parting words she fled. She had a Hospital Wing to visit.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading for reviewing! Sorry for the short chapter, I had a bit of writer's block. In good news, though, I wrote up a bunch of plans and character profiles. What do you think of the new folks? There are a few other characters that weren't sorted today as well.**


	28. Part 28 - Magic Hot Chocolate

_**Magic Hot Chocolate**_

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned are mine.**

* * *

"Link! Hey, Link! Wake up!"

 _You're too late._

Link shot out of bed, the rush making black dots swim over his vision. "No, no, I'm not late – I can't be," he said in a rush.

A hand reached out and grabbed Link by the shoulder, and Link turned to see Colin, with his blond hair puffing up (shouldn't it be in a bowl cut?), the crust from sleep still in his eyes. "Link, you're not late for anything. I even woke you up in time for breakfast!" Colin said brightly.

Link bit his lip, processing this new information. Colin looked earnest, but Link _knew_ , or half _-remembered_ , that there was something left to do, work left undone. He just didn't quite _know_ what.

Seeking reassurance, Link turned to his bedside stand and retrieved his wand, and this too felt _familiar_ , even more than it usually did. The hospital wing was bathed in the brisk light of the morning, the beds white and smooth, save Link's rumpled bedspread and the neighboring cot, which harbored a single lump in the middle.

"I think that's Luna," Colin said to Link, "She said she would come to visit you after the Welcoming Feast last night," he said as if that were an explanation for Luna to be doing her best impression of a pill bug.

Link smiled over at the lump Luna made, glad to have the sort of friend who would choose to stay overnight in the hospital wing just to keep him company. Cautiously, Link lifted a corner of the blanket, revealing Luna to be scrunched in a ball in the center of the bed, her hair in disarray. "Luna? You awake?"

"There is a time for talking," she mumbled into the pillow stolen from the head of the bed, "And there is also a time for sleeping. This," she drew the blanket back over her head, "This is a time for sleeping."

"Actually, I think its time for breakfast," Colin said glibly.

"…Breakfast is acceptable," Luna allowed, and she uncurled slowly, taking on, once again, the appearance of a human being. Blurrily, she blinked over at Link. "You have chocolate on your teeth," she announced, and Link ran his tongue over his incisors. "And a staggering infestation of nargles. I should write to Daddy, maybe we could look into the connection between dementor attacks and nargle infestations, it took me hours to get rid of mine…"

"Later, Miss Lovegood," Madame Pomfrey bustled into her ward officiously. "You and Link are going to brush your teeth, change your clothes and go to class, your whirligigs can wait."

After that, it took little time for Link, Luna and Colin to make their way to breakfast, Link with a magical mug of hot chocolate and strict orders to drink it at the first sign of a melancholy mood.

The Great Hall was full of students, eating their meals with gusto. Professor McGonagall had already descended on the Gryffindor table, handing out schedules and chiding Weasleys on their table manners.

"Ah, there you are Mr. Creevey, Miss Lovegood, Link," she strode towards them, parchment in hand. "It is good to see you've recovered well," she said, giving Link a once over. "Your schedules," she handed a piece of parchment to Link and Colin. "Miss Lovegood, I believe Professor Flitwick has your schedule - " a piece of parchment, shaped like an airplane, zipped across the hall and landed in front in Luna's hands. "Ah, there it is.

"Oh, yes, and Link," Professor McGonagall fixed Link with a stern look. "I'm afraid that if I catch you going out to face the dementors in the _mono a mono_ duel of the century, that I will have to declare you insane and sent to St. Mungo's. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Professor," Link agreed. "No dueling dementors until I've mastered the patronus charm," he took a sip of cocoa, a ghost of smirk on his face.

Professor McGonagall raised a hand to her temple. "Just…go eat your breakfast, Link. Miss Lovegood, you're a Ravenclaw, correct? Keep him from doing anything too Gryffindorish."

"That's not an easy job, Professor," Luna said, smoothing out the creases in her schedule. "But I'll do my best."

"That's all I can ask," Professor McGonagall sighed, and she moved off to hand out her remaining schedules.

"Professor McGonagall is a nice lady," Luna remarked absently. "Would you like to hear my theory about how the Sorting Hat is step one in a long-term plan on the part of Matilda, Countess of Tuscany, to destabilize Hogwarts and enact revenge on Godric Gryffindor, who insulted her poetry?"

Colin blinked at the abrupt change in topic, but Link was entirely unfazed. "Is this the same Matilda, Countess of Tuscany, who may have hidden tickling spells in the walls of the Vatican catacombs in an attempt to lighten the place up?" he asked, sitting down next to Ginny at the Gryffindor table. She was eating a bran muffin.

"Precisely," Luna smiled, taking a step onto the bench, a careful step between a platter of croissants and a jug of pumpkin juice on the table, and a step to the opposite bench to sit across from Link. Colin copied Luna, but knocked over the pumpkin juice. Down the table, Angelina Johnson cast a tired repairing charm, followed by a cleaning charm and a color-changing hex, turning Colin's blond hair maroon.

"That's not a half bad look for you," Ginny commented, mouth full of bran muffin.

"Thanks? What color is my hair this time?" Colin tried to pull down a strand so he could see.

"Maroon, like Ron's Christmas Sweaters," Luna said, pouring herself some water.

And, with that, everything slotted into place, and Link could forget his worries about half- _remembered_ horrors of the past, and simply enjoy the present, with his friends and a mug of never-ending hot chocolate.

…For about seven minutes.

Until _Groose_ strutted in (why do I _know_ his name?), his fire-engine red hair styled in an unflattering pompadour, his eyes sunken and yellow. There were a few first years next to him, but Groose was taller than all of them, a state of affairs helped by his absurd hair, granting him an extra five inches of height.

His every step oozed carefully, but ultimately fruitlessly, orchestrated swagger, the hem of his robe brushing against the middle of his calves.

"No need to fear, fellow wizards, the Groose is here!" Groose planted an elbow at the end of the table, smearing some marmalade on his sleeve.

A table of nonplussed Slytherins looked at him with utter disdain.

The Slytherin seated at the end of the table looked lazily at Groose, from his overlarge feet to the tip of his ridiculous red hair. "You're a Gryffindor, I presume?"

"You bet I am," Groose laughed heartily. "The Groose is going to be the best Gryffindor to ever live."

"Of course," the Slytherin sighed deeply, telegraphing to her fellows that she was showing the utmost restraint. "This is the Slytherin table. The Gryffindors," and the word dripped with derision, "Sit over there." She gestured at the table with a disproportionately large number of redheads. The hall was very quiet, and heads were craned to bear witness to Groose's faux pas.

Groose's yellow eyes widened comically (across the hall, Link took a large gulp of hot chocolate).

"You'd best move along," the older Slytherin advised. "Wouldn't want to cause a scene," she added sardonically.

Groose looked first left, then right, noticing the many, many eyes on him. He moved away quickly. He didn't strut.

"What an utter idiot," a loud voice said. Draco Malfoy, Link recognized. "Probably raised in a barn like the Weasleys," he sneered. The hall once again broke into loud chatter, each group offering up their own interpretation of the morning's events.

Link took a chug of hot chocolate, and watched as Groose drew into himself as he walked to the Gryffindor table.

"You're going to invite him to sit with us, aren't you?" Luna raised an eyebrow.

Link looked down at himself – he was already halfway standing. "Yeah," he said. I have to, he didn't say, I _know_ Groose, he especially didn't say.

"Good," Luna buttered her toast. Colin and Ginny nodded, as well.

"Right," Link squared his shoulders, and walked up to Groose, who was lingering at the edge of the Gryffindor table, looking at his schedule.

Link edged up to the boy, waving his fingers awkwardly.

"Hey," Groose said, tilting his head up in an attempt at nonchalance. "I'm Groose. The Groose." There was no flicker of recognition. He didn't _know_ Link.

Link ponders what to say to Groose, the options swimming before his eyes: "Hello", "Quite an entrance, there," "…", or "How are you already taller than me?" But, really, there was only ever one option:

"Nice hair."

He says it genuinely.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Full disclosure, I wrote the entire second half of this chapter while listening to Groose's Theme.**


	29. Part 29 - People, Year 2 (1)

_**People, Year 2, Part 1**_

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned are mine.**

…

 **Filch**

During his first year at Hogwarts, Link learned several things: don't eat Hagrid's rock cakes, never go in against a Slytherin when detention is on the line, and Filch holds all of the real power in the castle.

The man is gristled and grumpy, and Link had never seen the man cast a spell – but. Filch knew more about the inner secrets of the castle than anyone, except possibly the Weasley twins, and Link was in the business of knowing things. Everything. He was nosy like that.

His previous attempts to ingratiate himself with the man were unsuccessful – the man scoffed at his attempts to mop the halls, and yelled at Link for dusting the portraits. But this was a new year, and Link had a new strategy.

If he couldn't convince the man to like him, he would convince the cat.

It was a truth universally acknowledged (and proven, after last year's petrification debacle) that if Filch truly cared for one thing in this whole world, it was Mrs. Norris, his cat.

It was a simple equation in Link's mind: Filch likes Mrs. Norris, Mrs. Norris likes Link, Filch likes Link.

Unfortunately, this plan was not so easy to put into action. Mrs. Norris was a hellion of a cat, and did not for care for Link one jot. For the most part Link got on very well with animals – he could go up to any dog, and it would be happy to be pet or carried around, no matter how little time they had spent together. Sometimes, if he fed the dog, they would lead him to a small pile of treasure.

Cats were the same – Link spent quite a few evenings in the Gryffindor Common Room, collecting other student's cats and petting them until they purred gratefully. Owls practically _flocked_ to him. He was even on speaking terms with the giant squid.

Link was _great_ with animals. (Link very carefully did not think about pigs, which ran away from him and squealed when he caught them, or the fish he _remembered_ shooting with arrows, or the cuccos. Dear Hylia, the cuccos.)

So, Link was positively flummoxed when he went up to scratch Mrs. Norris behind the ears she hissed and scratched him, unlike every other cat in _memory_. Stunned, Link regrouped. He tried bribing Mrs. Norris with first bacon, then milk, then fish. None were deemed acceptable. He planted catnip in the hall. Mrs. Norris _hissed_ at it.

In a desperate bid, Link sat the cat down and explained to her that he was the person that slayed the Basilisk that had turned her into a statue last year.

Mrs. Norris was unimpressed.

Link kept trying – it might take him seven years, but Mr. Filch would be his ally yet.

…

 **Talo**

It was his third night back at Hogwarts, when Link stopped and walked up to one of his not-Colin roommates, and points a finger.

"I know you," he announced, his face a mixture of confusion and triumph.

"I should hope so," the boy quirked a brow. He was wearing pajamas and a red bandana, placed at a jaunty angle. He was convinced that it was a cool look, and nobody had the heart to dissuade him of this misconception.

"No, I mean, I _know_ you," Link continued emphatically. "Your name is Talo."

"Yes, yes it is," Talo sidestepped Link. He was eager to go to sleep. "We've lived in the same room for a year, of course you know me."

"You've really been here this whole time?" Link looked at Colin for confirmation.

Colin nodded. "You two had a whole feud about cockroach clusters in April, it was terrible."

"Oh," Link felt a little sheepish. "Well, then. Hi, Talo."

"Good night, Link," Talo threw himself into bed.

"Link, are you sure you're all right? Maybe you should visit the hospital wing…"

"No, I'm fine, Colin," Link argued. "I just got a little mixed up, is all."

"You forgot _Talo_ ," Colin frowned.

"No, I _remembered_ him."

…

 **Strich**

Link really didn't expect company, here, in a small corner of the dungeons, which he had only reached by crawling through a small series of tunnels populated only by bugs and spiders.

But there he was, a blond boy with long limbs and an equally long face. Link recognized him – his name was Strich – though he didn't know from where, or why.

"Hello," Link greeted Strich, still emerging from the tunnel.

"Hello," Strich said. He had a millipede in his hands. He smiled at the millipede. He didn't smile at Link.

"What brings you to this corner of the dungeon?" Link asked, brushing some of the dirt from his trousers.

"What are you doing here?" Strich countered, not answering Link's question.

"Exploring," Link settled down next to Strich, careful to avoid stepping on any bugs.

"Why," Strich stated.

"It's what I do," Link shrugged. The answer felt correct.

Strich continued to play with millipede. It crawled over and around his hands, curling and twisting. Link thought it was pretty cute, and he said so to Strich. Within a few minutes, Strich was sharing his life story. Link has that sort of face.

"I love bugs," Strich said, with the sort of reverence usually reserved for parents doting on their children. " I LOVE bugs. My one ambition is to collect every bug in the entire world."

"Cool," Link said. He had his own millipede now.

"I know, right?" Strich was grinning. "That's why I'm a Slytherin, you know. Or at least, that's what the hat told me. I have this huge, overwhelming ambition. It's all consuming. It dominates my thoughts – every bug in the world," Strich's eyes were wide and glassy. "But that's the problem, you see? Collecting bugs is my only ambition. Fame, power, good grades? I don't care about any of that. And that makes it hard for me to relate to the other Slytherins."

"Why would that be?" Link asked.

"Because they _do_ care about all of those things. They yearn for better social statues, and academic status, and to be the most powerful wizard of all time. They don't care about the bugs," Strich gently scratched the millipede's midsection, as if to reassure the creature that he, at least, cared. "Link, they think I'm no better than a _Hufflepuff_."

"The very thought," Link said. Strich didn't notice Link's sarcasm.

"I _know_ ," Strich looked positively agonized. "What am I going to do, Link? I can't just pretend to care about grades or social status, I wouldn't have any time for my bugs. But I still want to have human friends. Or, well, my mom says I need to make human friends here, or she won't give me a bug net for Christmas."

"Strich, has it occurred to you that you could make friends outside of your House?" Link asked. "Friends who don't care about social status, or power, and would like you, bugs and all?"

Strich stared at Link, wide-eyed. "You can do that?"

"Sure can," Link said. "And I have just the fellow in mind, too…"

…

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Sorry for the short chapter, I had some writers block and figured a shorter chapter a little late was better than nothing. Thanks for being patient with me!**


	30. Part 30 - People, Year 2 (2)

_**People, Year 2, Part 2**_

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or settings mentioned are mine.**

 **AN: Timeline of these snippets is wobbly at best – I might repost them in something close to an order once I manage to write all of them. All mistakes are my own.**

...

 **Groose**

Groose, Link reflected wryly, was incapable of entering any room without making an entrance. Some of those entrances were more flattering than others – Groose strutting in, a glint to his grin and his hair a beacon crying for attention. This Tuesday evening's entrance into the Great Hall for supper was one of his less flattering entrances.

It started off well enough – with the large door opening with a slam, and Groose using his usual swaggering walk. But Groose did not look well at all – his robes were stained with lime green and maroon splotches, he was missing his left shoe, his pompadour was sagging, and he was carrying a cauldron that was partially melted. The dried tail of a newt was attached to the rim.

Link's eyes flicked to the staff table and, yes, there was Professor Snape, wearing a look of utter disdain.

"I was wondering how we lost that particular batch of points," Ginny murmured to Colin as an aside.

"The Groose is here, no need to cheer," Groose said humbly, taking a place near Link at the Gryffindor table. The boisterous first year was having trouble connecting with people in his year, despite his best (overblown) efforts.

"Would you mind if I did a cleaning charm?" Link asked. Katie Bell had pulled Link aside and forced Link to learn the charm once she grew tired of the younger boy asking for help getting stains out of his signature cap. "It might help with some of the splotches."

Groose put his mostly-melted cauldron down on the table with a slam. The newt tail flew off and landed in the pudding. "There's a spell for that?"

"Yeah, there sure is Groose," Link smiled a little. Groose talked a big game, but at heart he was just as enamored with each little piece of magic as Colin was. "Scourgio!"

With a flick of Link's wand the purple splotches disappeared – but Groose's robes turned forest green. "Oops," Link frowned, and quietly practiced his wand movements again. "Well, in any case, your robe is no longer stained."

"Woah, it's all green now," Groose said, his eyes wide. He patted himself down, then grabbed a corner of the fabric to inspect the color change in closer quarters.

"So, uh, Groose, how did Potions go?" Ginny asked, unable to resist kicking the hornet's nest.

"Well, heh, that's a funny story," he glanced nervously towards the staff table, where Snape continued to sport the dourest of expressions. "It started during roll call…"

.

" _Ah, yes," Snape said softly. "Groose Greyfeather. You found your way to the Gryffindor table…eventually." Many students tittered under their breaths, but Snape quelled them with a look. "You'd best invest in a map, Mr. Greyfeather. It would be a …shame to be lost in these dungeons."_

 _._

"That wasn't very kind of Professor Snape," Luna commented, sipping her pumpkin juice.

"I'd like a map, though," Link considered. "A really nice map of Hogwarts, and maybe a compass that points to treasure chests."

"You do realize that's not how compasses work, right, Link?" Colin asked. "Or, at least normal compasses."

"A magical compass, maybe," Ginny pondered the point. "Though would it only point at one treasure at a time, or what?"

"Points to whichever treasure is closest," Link clarified through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "So, what happened next, Groose?"

"Snape had us start the potion right away…"

.

 _The directions for an "absurdly…simple" Tickling Tincture were scribbled onto the chalkboard in cramped text. Each step bled into the next with very little space. Groose struggled to gather the correct ingredients from the jars along the walls, and, unlike almost everybody else, did not have a partner to bounce ideas against. One of the Gryffindors, a girl with long red hair, cast an apologetic look in his direction, but was dragged back to focus by her partner. Another boy, a gangly Slytherin, also had no partner, but he was cradling one of ingredients – the wings of a moth - in his hands._

 _._

"Poor Strich," Link frowned, feeling bad for the bug-loving boy.

.

 _Groose assembled his ingredients haphazardly, slicing the pickled cabbage haphazardly and eyeballing the amount of mushroom dust to add after step four – or was it five? He added the dandelion stems at the last moment, forgetting to include them with the cabbage during step two._

 _._

"You added the dandelion stems after the newt tails?" Luna asked. Groose nodded. "Interesting," she stared into the middle distance. "That would explain quite a bit."

.

 _The reaction started slowly, with low bubbles burbling while Groose tried to read whether he should stir counterclockwise after six or eight clockwise stirs. After Groose compromised with seven stirs – close enough, right? – the reaction grew more violent, bubbles overflowing, a swirl of green and magenta tipping over the edge of the cauldron._

 _Across the room, Snape sneered. "Having trouble, Mr. Grayfeather? I'm certain you have the courage to - "_

 _The potion erupted, a veritable flow of semi congealed ingredients shooting into the air, the majority falling onto Groose. With a lazy spell Snape mitigated most of the damage, but left Groose's cauldron partially melted and the boy himself stained green and purple._

 _._

"Ouch," Colin commiserated. "That almost happened to me, once, but Talo caught me before I started stirring. Still didn't get any points that day, though."

Groose appeared heartened to hear that other people made similar potions mistakes. "I don't know if my 'do' will ever recover," Groose admitted with a whisper, attempting to style his hair once more.

"I have full confidence in your hair's ability to bounce back from this," Link pronounced. "And I'm confident you will too. Though, I have to ask, that explains the stains…but what happened to your shoe?"

Groose looked down, gaping at his bare toes. "I-I don't know," he stammered. "Is there a staircase that eat shoes?"

"Maybe," Link shared a look with Luna, and pulled out his wand. "Let's make it a quest!"

…

 **Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan**

The air was crisp and clear, the Hogwarts grounds bathed in the golden glow of an autumn morning. The giant squid was performing lazy backstrokes on the lake. The crimson robes of the Gryffindor Quidditch team could be seen zooming around the Quidditch pitch, doubtlessly spurred on by Oliver Wood's manic energy.

"Good morning, good morning," Dean Thomas said, addressing the moderately sized crowd of students before him. He was standing on top of a boulder, next to his best friend, Seamus Finnegan. "Welcome to the first meeting of Footballers Revitalizing Objectively better Games, or F.R.O.G.s, for short."

The crowd gave an enthusiastic shout.

"I thought we were called Hogwarts United!" Link heckled from the back of the crowd. Ginny elbowed him.

Link was ignored, and Seamus picked up where Dean left off. "Our goal – and yes that was a pun, deal with it – is to help the glorious, unmatched sport of football sweep the wizarding world as it has already swept the muggle world."

"Quidditch is loads of fun, sure. I mean, flying? That's awesome," Dean said. "But the way Quidditch is set up here at Hogwarts only 28 players get to play in the tournament every year. We want to open up the playing field a little bit, and football is just the way to do that."

"F.R.O.G.s is an organization that isn't affiliated with any particular house," Seamus continued. "We're all here to play the game. So, let's get to it – the rules are you can't use your hands, and you try to get the ball into the opposing team's goal."

"We'll get into the details later – for now let's just play ball!"

…

 **Neville Longbottom**

"Hey Neville," Link said, plopping into the squishy armchair next to the older boy.

Neville jumped a little, his pen swiping haphazardly across parchment. "Whah? Oh, hey, Link. You need help with Herbology already?" he said, resigned. Link required a lot of tutoring.

"First lesson is tomorrow," Link said, and while he wouldn't admit to being worried, precisely, Link preferred to have a plan on hand. "Any tips you could give me? Specific plants I shouldn't stab?"

"All of the plants, Link," Neville reminded him. "You shouldn't be stabbing any of the plants. In fact, most of my tutoring seems to be training in how _not_ to stab or slash or burn all of the plants to the ground."

"You're a very good teacher," Link said earnestly. "I only _trimmed_ one Venemous Tentacula during the final exam last year."

"And I'm very proud of that," Neville smiled a little, sounding fond despite himself. "But Link, this year you're going to step up your game. Professor Sprout's got another batch of Mandrakes, so you'll spend a lot of the year caring for and repotting them."

"Mandrakes?" Link asked. "Like the Mandrakes in the Mandrake Restorative Draught that un-petrified Colin and Harry and Nick and Mrs. Norris?"

"Exactly," Neville said, pleased. "Mandrakes are delicate and dangerous plants. They're like little plant people, growing under the ground."

"Plant people? I like plant people, some of my best friends are plant people," Link perked up, thinking of the Koroks he grew up exploring the Lost Woods with.

"Thanks," Neville said, thinking Link was talking about him. "But Mandrakes are dangerous, too, Link. Full grown, their cry will kill you. Even when they're little their screams will knock you out right quick," he said the last bit a little sheepishly.

"Cool," said Link, a little bit excited. He wondered whether he could use a baby Mandrake to knock out a group of (currently hypothetically, but statistically likely to appear) enemies. "So, just don't stab them?"

"And don't take off your earmuffs," Neville nodded. "There's more, but that's enough for you to be going on, I think."

…

 **AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I might take next week off - I'm sure a lot of you share this feeling, but it has been a very emotionally draining month. It's hard to put myself in the right frame of mind to write something light and happy. *Goes to pet dog***


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